


Almost a Dream

by Team_Alpha_Wolf_Squadron



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Modern Era, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Alpha_Wolf_Squadron/pseuds/Team_Alpha_Wolf_Squadron
Summary: History student Arthur thought he struck gold when he found an old journal. The only problem is that he can't read it, and the one person who can has started awakening things he never thought were possible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This won't be updated regularly. It's just something that's been mulling around for a while in my head. Hope you like it.

When he had asked for a challenge, he didn't actually think he would get one.

Arthur was in his second year at university. It had been hard going getting him there. The studying, the arguments, his father, all of it had to be overcome so he could study history at the university of his choosing. Uther had not been happy. He had wanted Arthur to specialise in business, the only actual degree a Pendagon could hold according to him. But Arthur had been of another persuasion. It was his education. I he was going to be spending all this time and money on a degree, he didn't want to spend all day looking at graphs and stocks. If he wanted to learn all about that he could just ask his father. In fact, he was fairly sure he could teach his own degree on business with the information he had learnt over the years.

No, Arthur didn't care about business. History on the other hand was a small passion of his. Between battle plans and extraordinary figures throughout the years, he was hooked. He didn't care that there was no real career path from studying just history, or that he would have to listen to his father go on about the extra year he could do in business so it wasn't a complete waste him going into further education. He just didn't' care. History was what he was interested in. So History he went to study.

To prove himself to his father he did his best, more than his best, in his first year, getting a first in all his courses. Of course, his father didn't see it as good news, merely proof that Arthur wasn't stupid, something he didn't need a history degree to tell Uther, so he said. He was more than happy to start second year to try again.

He took language classes, surprised at how easy he picked up Old English and Latin. Gaelic he was having trouble in, along with some other languages, but those two he barely had to study for. It was as if he had been taught them in another life, he just had to look at the page to get the bare grasp of what it was saying.

The classes helped with his work. He was being asked to stay behind more and more so he could work on some projects with his lecturers, which ended up in him excitedly telling his sisters about how well he was doing. They were proud for all of two moments before Uther overheard them talking and ended up overriding their praises with more talk on Arthur's extra year.

Despite Uther being his usual fatherly self, Arthur loved his course, thrived on the challenge they posed. Until they didn't.

It was almost Christmas, another week left of university and three essays under his belt. He was free, more or less, for the holidays, and thought to go pester his friend Leon for a while. He was a history student too, the two of them hitting it off almost instantly on their first day. It also helped they now shared a flat together, nothing made people become either best friends or mortal enemies than living together. Thankfully Leon was the former, the two of them getting along better than Arthur did with his own family.

He had thought the two of them could spend the evening on the town, maybe hit a few clubs to celebrate the upcoming winter holiday. Only, Leon was swamped with work.

'I don't know how you're done. I'm still coming up with the title,' Leon complained, barely looking up from his laptop.

A few hurried words later and Arthur was skulking back to his room wishing he had some work of his own to do. It was as he read over one of his old history books that he realized he hadn't actually done anything hard this semester. Sure, languages were difficult, but that's the same with learning any new language. What he meant was intellectual challenge. He had never looked at something this semester that really made him think. Never looked at something and was fascinated so much he had to look into everything about it. It was disheartening when he realized.

A few days later Leon got out of his pit long enough to suggest a flat outing. Arthur was half sure it was a want to get away from his work and half because he had ran out of junk food. That latter being something Arthur may have had a hand in to drive Leon out of his room.

'There's this Christmas fair over by the pub,' Leon said, still dreary eyed from his essays. 'What say we take a look and have a drink?'

'Excellent idea.' He knew because he was the one who had been suggesting going there for the past few days, slipping it into conversations and even leaving flyers around for Leon to sleepily glance over. Arthur knew how to get what he wanted.

The Christmas fair was small. Minuscule really. There were in total five stalls, and only one of them had an abundance of people. Naturally it was the food stand, which had Leon gravitating over to it like a moth to a flame. Ordinarily, Arthur would have been joining him, especially when he heard the call of free mulled wine with any purchase. In this instance another stall caught his eye. It was the last one in the line. The hangings were poorly draped and the vendor looked shifty to say the least, but his goods were interesting.

Instead of Christmas-y stuff like gingerbread toys or ornaments there was a mass of jewels and books. From living with two high maintenance woman all his life he could tell a real jewel from fake. These were definitely real. Big, expensive and real. If Arthur was really thinking about it they looked like they should be in someone's treasury, or in a museum. Instead, they were lying on a creepy man's stall being flogged to men who couldn't tell their real worth if they had spent their life working in a jewellers.

He had half a mind to buy one, Morgana would love the ruby hilted dagger. But the law would probably catch up with this guy soon, and Arthur didn't really want to be in prison before finishing his degree. So he cast his gaze elsewhere towards the books.

There were masses of them. First edition Dickens, Doyles and even magazines with short stories Arthur had only heard about existing in lectures. He had half a mind to buy them all. But again, the thought of being caught in a robbery investigation didn't sit right with him. He was about to leave, should have done from the start really, when a plain journal caught his eye.

Well, he said plain. To the unassuming eye it would look like the most ragged, worthless book in existence. Arthur however, was a history student, and was trained in the art of spotting this or that. The cover was ratty, but that was because it was old. In fact, Arthur was sure he could spot some purposeful knife marks, meaning it had been through an attack. The cover looked to be some kind of animal skin, most likely a sheep, although it was hard to tell from first glance.

It took all that he had not to react to excited at seeing the journal. Even more so to bargain the creepy vendor down to a shoddy ten quid, it should have been worth fortunes after all. But he held strong, and trotted over to Leon when he was done most successful.

He was on it like a starved man when they got back to the flat. The cover really was sheep skin, the pages within frail under his fingers. He spent hours pouring over the little details, the odd splatter of dried blood. The smudged ink, and finally the writing itself. It was around this time that he realized he couldn't read it. He thought at first glance it would be Anglo Saxon, his old English coming in handy should he need to translate. Only, when he actually looked, the writing was a mixture of runes and a language even he couldn't decipher.

He had months before university started up again. Months of agony waiting to know what on earth this thing said. He thought he could do it. Thought he could wait and instead look over the handwriting itself. It was like Sherlock Holmes said, there was a lot that could be said about a man's handwriting. It was delicate at the beginning, thick strokes of ink that hung in precise places on the pages. Around the middle it changed, instead of smooth and patient it was spidery and erratic. There were blotches of smudges on these pages, almost as if the writer had been crying, or travelling. Travelling seemed more likely as the spidery handwriting evened out again near the end, curving around the bloodstains. What was most fascinating however, was the beginning. It was the only thing he could read, and that was because it was a name. Merlin. The letters were spaced out under a long line of words, most likely introducing the writer.

Merlin.

Stories of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table came to mind. Growing up in a family of Arthur, Morgana and Morgause, he had grown used to the tales and jokes people would make about his name. He remembered going through a faze of hating even the mention of that king, sick of being asked whether his girlfriend would dump him for the first Lancelot coming her way. Of course, that all changed when he got older and more interested in ancient history. As soon as he hit that time of his life he wanted to know everything about king Arthur. What era he really lived in. What he lived in. Did the palaces the Romans built survive the fall? Were there castles in Britain before the Norman invasion?

Of course, when he investigated this supposed king of England he stumbled across the stories of Merlin. At the time he had dismissed it. If Arthur was real, Merlin wasn't. He was too cast in mystery to be real. He had to be just a plot device by Chaucer and Malory to make Arthur more interesting. To add substance to the myth of him.

At least he had been.

Someone in history had been called Merlin, the proof was in his hands. Not to mention...

He spent weeks in his room researching the language before him, the hunch he was on not leaving his mind. No one really knew what time period king Arthur lived in. It wasn't that far of a stretch to think he may have been a Viking king. It would explain the runes. The runes he was working tirelessly to look up online.

Only, the internet couldn't translate everything. It gave him something sure, he could get a grasp of what might be on the pages before him when he translated this rune to 'battle,' that one to 'boat.' But it didn't tell him much. The only way he could know for sure what it said was if he could figure out the rest of the page. Which meant figuring out the other stupid language.

It wasn't Anglo Saxon. It did however, have roots in Latin. Here and there were words firmly Latin but spelt differently. Most likely changing to the spelling of the time. Old English didn't seem old enough for what this was. It was before Beowulf, which made Arthur that much more invested in what he was reading. Beowulf was ancient, something before that but after the Romans meant he was looking into the gap where Rome had burnt but the Saxons had yet to invade. Celtic seemed to be the best answer he could come up with.

As soon as he thought about that he went to the nearest place teaching Celtic and signed himself up.

He had been to his first lesson, still repeating the basics under his breath when he got home to find a stranger in his living room. Leon was a nervous wreck. He had been strung so thin finishing his work that he hadn't left his room for the whole time Arthur had discovered his pet project. To be honest Arthur had actually forgotten Leon existed, something he felt guilty about when he saw his friend trying to play host while his eyes stayed glued to the door of his room. His work was calling, and Arthur was a crappy friend for making him stay away for this long.

'Who's this?' he asked.

Leon shrugged, the dazed look on his face getting worse now he'd seen Arthur 'Someone for you.' It was no surprise when he left the room.

The stranger huffed, something like a chuckle slipping from his lips as Arthur rounded the sofa to greet him. He didn't recognize him. He thought for a moment they might go to the university together. But Arthur was sure he would remember seeing someone like him around. There was something about him, Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on it. He was tall, that much could be seen even when he was sitting down. His long legs were just barely folded under him on Arthur's small sofa. His skin was pale, looking like it had never seen sunlight, well, ever. Eyes blue and black hair he should have looked like any other student, if not for that aura around him. Arthur got the sense that he was foreign, there was just something different about him, smoother, ageless, than the everyday people he surrounded himself with. Nevertheless he seemed friendly, the smile he sent Arthur blooming into a full on toothy grin.

'I didn't know I was expecting anyone,' Arthur started, wondering half heartedly where his manners had gone. He was usually more polite than this.

The stranger took no offence, holding his hand out to shake. 'My name's Merlin, and I would have called ahead but I didn't have your number.'

'Merlin,' He tried out, taking the hand. He had a sinking feeling as soon as the name fled his lips. He was here for the journal. Still, he could try and play stupid. He had paid for the damn thing after all. 'Anything I can do for you?'

Merlin nodded, 'I hope so. See, I got burgled a few weeks ago. The police were nice about it, helped me get most of my things back. But the guy who stole from me kind of flogged some of my stuff before we got to him.' Damn, he really was here for the journal. 'He said he sold something to you, I was hoping to reimburse you.'

'Damn.'

It was hard to deny he had something when Merlin knew he had it. Not to mention Arthur strangely didn't want to lie to him. It was probably his guile, he looked too innocent for his own good. It made Arthur's good nature come out, and had him taking Merlin over to his room to collect the journal.

'How much did you pay for it?' Merlin asked, tossing the journal around in his hands like it was worth nothing. Arthur had to bite his lip to stop himself from shouting at the boy to be more careful.

'Ten.'

'Hundred?' Merlin gasped, the journal finally stopping in his fingers.

'No, just ten. I don't think the vendor really knew what he was selling.' The fingers had started up again, Arthur was sure he was developing a tick watching them pull on the frail pages. 'Could you maybe be more careful?'

Merlin stopped again, Arthur seeing him bite back a smirk as he reached into his pocket for his money. 'Don't worry, it's been through worse than me touching it.'

He took the money quickly, before he started begging for Merlin not to take it. It wasn't his after all, he had to remind himself, this man had been burgled, it wasn't right for Arthur to have stolen goods. It was one of the reasons he hadn't bought anything else off the stall after all.

'Still, it doesn't hurt to be careful.' Something dawned on him as he watched Merlin bite his lip again. 'So, is that actually real. I mean, _you're_ Merlin. Is that just some kind of weird doodlebook or...?'

Merlin didn't fight the smirk this time, his face tilting in a way that frankly made him look like a giddy idiot. 'It's Viking. In fact it was written during the invasion. You know, just because someone has the same name as someone in a book doesn't actually mean they are them. Like Arthur, I'm sure you're not King Arthur ,Henry VIII older brother, or even the great King Arthur himself.'

'I know,' Arthur huffed, even if he wished Merlin had lied to him. Knowing it was a worthless gibberish book would have been so much easier to let go of than a genuine historical artefact.

Merlin was watching him, an odd look on his face as he held the book up. 'Why did you buy this? I heard there were thousands of pounds worth of jewels on the guy. Would have thought you'd like to spoil your girlfriend, not buy some ratty journal.'

'History student,' He shrugged, which explained it all really.

Merlin hummed, still looking at Arthur weirdly. He started thumbing through the pages, even took a seat on Arthur's bed and kicked his feet up. For a stranger he was taking way too many liberties. Something he would have barked at if Merlin hadn't stopped at a random page asking, 'Can you read this?'

Arthur thought about lying, saying yes. There was something about this boy that had him wanting to impress him, or beat him around the head. One or the other. But of course, his want to tell the truth came first, so he shook his head and explained his search to find out what kind of language it was.

Merlin looked impressed when he finished, fingers flitting again. 'It's not Celtic. Not fully anyway. It's sort of coded. The writer was an exile, living in the Northern lands as he amassed an army to invade his homeland. Even the runes you translated weren't really correct. You can see here,' He motioned Arthur over, 'It looks like the rune for bird but there's an added flick here. It's his own brand of writing that was meant to fool the Saxons if they ever found it.'

'So it is Saxon?'

Merlin shook his head again, going on to explain that Saxons couldn't really read or write at this time, mainly the monks and king were the only ones with this power. He said it was written in a format that looked Saxon but was actually a whole other language Arthur had never heard of, nor could pronounce. In actual fact he was so fascinated with it he had Merlin repeat it three times before realized he spent most of that looking at Merlin's lips than how he formed the language's name.

He shook himself off, this man was taking his pride and joy away after all. He had to be firm.

At least that was what he thought until Merlin held the book up to him. 'You spent a lot of time on this didn't you?'

Arthur shrugged again, hoping to play off his efforts, 'History student.'

Merlin grinned that stupid grin again, his face going all dopey. 'You wanna know what it says?'

'Dear God yes.'

Arthur hoped then and there Merlin would tell him more about what was in the journal. His curiosity was burning to know what was in it. But Merlin had other ideas. He grabbed Arthur's pad, writing down an address like this was his room and not a complete strangers, then told him to come around when he was free. It was almost painful letting him leave after that. He wanted to know now. He knew Merlin could read it, there was no doubt about it. He had probably been brought up on the journal, his mother or father reading it to him as a child. Or maybe he was a history student himself who had dedicated his life to figuring out the journal. In any case, Arthur was sure in his knowledge Merlin had the answers he wanted, and hoped showing up tomorrow wasn't too forward since he wasn't waiting another week to know what secrets the Viking world had.


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin lived in an manor about an hour from Arthur's university. As soon as he saw the place he thought there had been some mistake. There was no way a gangly boy like Merlin lived here. Which was when he remembered the jewels on the vendor's cart, the priceless journal and other first editions that had been there. Merlin said he had been robbed, someone with a collection worth robbing had to have money, so of course Merlin should live somewhere like this.

It was huge, gaudy and looking like a palace in its own right. Merlin answered the door himself, looking happy even before he opened the door to greet Arthur. He ushered him in, chattering on about this or that which Arthur tuned out as he took in the inside of the manor.

It was beautiful to put it lightly. There were things from Georgian, Victorian Edwardian and other periods his mind supplied everywhere he looked. His brain was nearly overloading as he saw things that should have long been put in a museum out on show like they would have been in their regular time. He felt like he was stepping back in time. It was fascinating. He half wondered if Merlin would let him do his dissertation here.

'The library's up through here.'

The library. The library was a work of art. The first editions he had seen on the stall were nothing, not even the tip of the iceberg to what Merlin had in his library. He was sure he saw a genuine Shakespeare script as Merlin herded him over to the back of the large space. There were three sofas, all old but looking comfortable and worn in front of a massive fireplace.

He heard Merlin mutter something about drinks, not really paying attention as he studied the fireplace. It was huge, almost as tall as Arthur himself. It was all grey stone, seeming to leap from the brickwork as it moulded itself into the shape of dragons. There were three of them in total, all of them head to tail and so intricately detailed they looked like they would come to life at any moment.

'Tea?' snapped him out of his musings, Merlin grinning behind him like he was happy to have frightened Arthur.

'So where are the journals?' He asked, trying to regain his manhood. It wasn't working, even he could hear the way his voice hitched at the end.

Still, Merlin didn't mention it, merely huffed and went off to a nearby bookcase. A bookcase that housed journals that looked more than familiar. There was a whole row looking the same as the one he had held yesterday. Arthur had no doubt they were all written by Merlin, and went to stand next to the other Merlin to get a better look. After the sheepskin were leather bounds. Paperbacks for the most part before turning into hardbacks halfway down the towering case. As soon as the hardbacks started it changed to paper, and before he knew it Arthur was staring at small notebooks he could get in his local shop. History was before him. Somehow, he was sure of it, Merlin's family had decided to document their life through journals. Lifetimes of war and love all compacted into one large case. He itched to read all of them. There had to be one that was written in English.

But Merlin was fairly set on Arthur reading the Viking journal, and herded him back to the sofas as soon as he found it.

Arthur wasn't ashamed to cosy up to Merlin. He was horrible at handling centuries old books, and as far as Arthur was concerned needed to be watched over. Merlin didn't seem to mind it, folding his long legs under him and telling Arthur to get comfy as he opened to the first neatly printed page.

Merlin filled the hours Arthur was there filling in the picture of a world he had never even thought to believe. The Merlin in the tale was an exile, a so called 'sorcerer'- to which Arthur stifled a laugh to the reference to the legendary Arthurian Merlin. The man had risen up against a king, years ago from where the journal started, Merlin said, and had been sent off on a boat. His hands had been tied, his body beaten and mind almost gone with the effort it took to keep himself alive. He had been on that boat for months, again Merlin had to interject with this backstory, before they breached shore. When he finally landed he had been regarded as a stranger, an enemy who could not speak the natives language. They had thought to enslave him and put him to work in the fields. Merlin soon put a stop to that thought with his 'mystical powers.'

The journal's first half entries were about the work he got after the locals had accepted him. They thought him a gift from the Gods, a new prophet that would lead them to riches unknown. Merlin had took that role, and used it to work his way into the people's good books.

There were drawings every now and then, pictures of plants and creatures that had been smudged somewhere along the way. Merlin took great care in showing Arthur the drawing, telling him what was what. He taught him about the Nokken, a shape shifter that lived in the waters.

He told the tale of Merlin going travelling with the Earl to a neighbouring village in the hopes they would share their crops for the upcoming winter. The snow was hard, deep and much different to what Merlin had been used to in his old country. Despite having been at home in this strange place a while he was still growing accustomed to their land, and when, finally, they came upon a melted valley near a hot spring, he spent a whole page raving about its greatness.

When night came, those they had sent out for food had not returned. Merlin had a bad feeling, making one last journal entry before going off to look for them. He never found their bodies. What he did find was a woman in the water. Her eyes were the same murky blue of the waters she lived in, and for a moment Merlin was reminded of Freya- a girl he had once liked, Merlin interjected- before he noticed he could only see the top of her head. He stood there for a while watching her, and it was only as he remembered those he was looking for that he noticed she had not come up for air.

He went back to camp with warnings about the waters, and was told in turn he had seen a Nokken, a creature that took on a humbling shape in the hopes someone would come and help them. When the willing victim got too close they drowned them, although the Earl wasn't sure for what purpose. No carcasses were ever found, no stray limbs floating to the surface. If they truly were eaten, they were eaten whole.

Stories of the Draugen ghosts that haunted villages, the Nisse that caused mischief everywhere they touched and the trolls that lived in the mountains followed, often with notes from Merlin about how fascinated and different they were from his own land. Arthur spent a good few minutes looking at his storyteller as he laughed about the note the author had made about trolls. Apparently wondering if Uther would find these trolls just as attractive as the ones back home had Merlin in stitches. Strange man.

They reached about the middle of the journal, Merlin going on about some travellers that had come to seek advice when he noted the time. He was off for Christmas sure, but staying this long when he had other things- finding Morgana a Christmas present- to do wasn't wise.

Still, it took a few more minutes listening to Merlin talk about the strangers before he worked up the courage to stop him.

'Can I come again? I'd like to know what happens.' He didn't want to be left wondering. Already the journal was better than he had hoped. Sure, some things took a stretch of the imagination, and really it was more like he was listening to a Tolkien book than an actual journal. But people back then didn't know these things didn't exist, they heard about monsters, or saw things they couldn't' explain, and immediately thought magic was at the cause. Besides, the magic just made it that more entertaining. If this Merlin had went on for fifteen pages about crops he didn't think he would be as interested.

Merlin seemed to sense he wouldn't be getting rid of Arthur any time soon, and strangely didn't look to mind. Showing him out, the two of them made plans to meet up again. Really Arthur would have liked to return the next day, but like he said he had Morgana to buy for and his sister was nothing if not picky.

They settled on the day after, Merlin even going as far as to give him his number. 'Just in case you need to cancel.' Like Arthur actually would. He was attending ever meeting until Merlin was done.

They said their goodbyes, Arthur looking back to see Merlin lingering in his expansive doorway. A little wave had Merlin beaming so wide he could see it from down the long, and he meant long, drive. It stuck with him until he got back home.

Leon was in an awful mood. Huddled in blankets, he was sniffing and coughing from the couch watching Downton Abbey reruns.

'Can't find the remote,' He complained as soon as Arthur came through the door.

'I think the remote's the least of your worries. What happened?'

All those long nights and distracted days had made Leon ill. Something Arthur really didn't need. It wasn't that he was being heartless. He loved Leon like a brother after all. Well, healthy Leon. Sick Leon he would leave at the bottom of a river if he could. He was moody, snappy, and hated being taken care of. It Arthur so much as tried to remind him to take a tablet he often had something thrown at him. He knew he was no better when he was ill, but it wasn't him right now, so he contented himself for a night of hell.

As thought, Leon grumbled about everything. Even finding the remote he had 'lost' under his mountain of blankets had him sitting through an hour long lecture about how he was a grown man and could take care of himself.

'Fine,' He eventually snapped pill and water in hand. 'But I'm telling you now if this isn't gone by the time I get out of the shower I'm force feeding it to you.'

Thankfully threats worked, and Arthur was happy leaving Leon in his cocoon while he got some sleep. Hopefully in the morning Leon would be feeling better. If not, he was calling the man's mother and having her deal with him.

Sleep came easily, the day having exhausted him.

_He found himself in a bed too big to be his own. The covers had long since been kicked away and sunlight was streaming through the gap in the curtains._

_A heavy weight on his chest had him looking to his left. A girl, probably one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen, was lying next to him. Dark skin burnished by the sun, and curls that in wild waves. She looked like a princess. Not just one of those girls he saw on TV, an every day beautiful girl, he meant an actual princess. Someone with an aura about them that just said they were meant to rule. There was nothing artificial about her, and it had him captivated._

_She reminded him a bit of Merlin too. Not in looks. Quite frankly the two of them couldn't look any different. But there was that same air of foreign about her. Of untouched. It was almost like she had just sprang from the nearest tree and into his bed, like one of those stories of nymphs and dryads he had read growing up._

_The curtains were thrown back, sunlight blinding him and sending him reaching for the quilt._

_'Merlin!' He heard his voice yell._

_The bed shook, the girl next to him waking with a laugh._

_'Come on Arthur.' He recognized that voice. It was Merlin, the Merlin he had just left. He wanted to throw off the quilt and see him, to know his suspicions were right. The History geek in him also wanted to see what Merlin was wearing, he had a feeing it wasn't skinny jeans and a hoodie. But his dream self, he was pretty confident he was dreaming at this point, was holding onto that blanket for dear life. 'I don't know what you see in him,' Merlin said, the girl laughing again in response. 'Come on, you have kingly things to do.'_

_'Not today,' His voice whined._

_'There's breakfast.' He could feel his dream self perk up at that idea. Really, he had been awake for a while, was actually wanting to get up. It was just spite at Merlin that was keeping him staying put._

_The quilt was removed, the girl grinning down at him, 'If you don't get up now, you know Gwaine will come and fetch you.'_

_'Never should have knighted him.'_

_'There's sausages!' Merlin bargained from somewhere._

_The girl's grin softened as she sat up, eyes still kept on Arthur. 'Well you did, and you also suggested these early mornings so you have no reason to complain.'_

_He heard himself groan, watched as one of his hands came to play with a curl at the girl's shoulder. 'Fine. But promise someday soon we can just lie in for a while.'_

_The girl chuckled, shaking her head like Arthur made this demand every morning, he had a feeling he did. He thought it would have been a nice moment, a truly romantic scene almost like something he would see in one of his sisters rom coms, had it not been for Merlin interrupting. 'I'd say yes, but I don't think it's me you want to wake up with.'_

_'Merlin!'_

He woke with his face in his pillow, the bed hard beneath him and the quilt far too large and still too thin against the cold of the room. He hated winter. Still, that didn't stifle the grin on his face. He'd managed to nab a look at Merlin before he woke. The idiot had been like something out of an old Shakespeare film. His hair was distinctly round in shape, and he was wearing more like rags than clothes. They were worn, hanging off him, and despite their bright colours still managed to look dull. It was quite the juxtaposition, yet Merlin somehow made it happen. That moronic grin had been on his face, one Arthur was sure he was mirroring as he showered.

It was strange, but the more he thought about it the more he felt Merlin just fit in that scene. He didn't look stupid, well no more stupid than he always looked. Somehow the clothes seemed right, it was like looking at someone with glasses, one day they just turned up without them and the whole picture was off. It felt like Merlin was meant to be looking like some clumsy peasant, like he had seen him in nothing else. Just trying to picture him with his messy hair and bright red hoodie had Arthur struggling. Something that shouldn't have happened since he had seen Merlin yesterday.

He had to put it to the back of his mind when he finally got out of the house. He couldn't be dwelling on things like Merlin when he was picking out Morgana's Christmas gift. His sister deserved his undivided attention. Not only because she would kill him if he chose the wrong thing. Sometimes he wished she was more like Morgause. Morgause didn't care what Arthur got her. Quite frankly she tried hard not to believe Arthur existed except for when she wanted something or was in a foul mood. He could get her a book token and she wouldn't even bat an eyelash.

Morgana on the other hand had him going into every shop he could find in search of the perfect gift. Hair stuff he couldn't get her since she changed what she used every other week. A brush was just insulting. Mirrors she had abundance of, and if he even tried to pick out a dress for her he knew it would be him wearing it instead. There was more than one Christmas photo of Arthur stuck in some sequined strapless he had thought she would like.

He was searching for most of the day, his mind straying back to those jewels on the man's stand. He should have just bought one of those and mailed it off before Merlin caught up with him. But he didn't, and now he was stuck looking in another shop.

It was an old antique place. Chairs were piled up on one another, tables scratched from where someone had shoved furniture where they shouldn't. It was shoddy to say the least. So shoddy Arthur almost walked out, had he not seen the old clothes at the back.

Flower dresses and hand me down suits were all lined up one after another. But he wasn't really looking at them. What he was looking at was the bright red cape flowing from one of the mannequins. It wasn't a vampire cape, or anything that could be worn for Halloween. There was a long hood on top, the material soft to the touch, with a silk inseam and looking like it would be warm on. It looked old, and something that would have no modern practicality, but he felt like Morgana would love it. He knew Morgana would love it. Even if she just wore it in bed doing her dissertation she would take good care of it.

Before he cold even start to second guess his decision and remembered it was always bad to buy Morgana clothes, he had it paid and wrapped, snagging an old dragon clasp while he was at it to make up for the little money it cost.

With Morgana sorted his mind was free to wander. Naturally Merlin was first in his mind. He wondered what Merlin was doing now, and what he would get to know tomorrow. What the strangers were doing at the village. Whether there were any more monsters lurking between the pages. He spent the rest of his day reading up on the ones he had already learnt about. Just as he thought the creatures were Norse, which meant that it was about Vikings. The author had stumbled upon a Viking village, was living through pre raiding times. There had been no mention on religion just yet, merely prophecy and magic. Still, it was fascinating. He wondered if Merlin would let him use it next year. He could do a whole essay on the superstitions of the Viking tribes and how they changed England when they arrived. The idea had taken root when he read up on trolls, apparently they were mentioned more often after the Viking invasion, which meant they had brought stories with them. Had invented stories. It was all just incredibly fascinating.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin was waiting for him before he even got up the drive. It was the most dressed up he had ever seen the man. Two helmets were slung under his arms, his trousers neatly tucked into a pair of boots and a waistcoat better suited to a farmer than a man who lived in a manor on his chest. It was still a step up from the hoodie.

'What's the occasion?'

Merlin thrust the helmet at him, not saying another word as he started off away from the door and towards the side of the manor.

'I thought we were going over the journal?' He said catching up with Merlin. He blamed Merlin's long legs for the reason he took longer than normal to catch up. That, and the riding trousers were perfectly tailored to Merlin's frame. It would have been a shame if Arthur didn't see exactly how well they fit him.

'We are. I planned a picnic,' Merlin grinned like he was telling a joke. 'It's a nice day, don't you think?'

Merlin was insane. It was freezing, so cold in fact that the trees looked to be huddling together for warmth. He was surprised Merlin could even walk with how little he had on. Arthur had at least two layers, two that would have been three had he not thought they were spending the afternoon huddled around Merlin's massive fireplace again.

The walk did little to sway him that a picnic was a good idea. The wind was picking up slightly, blowing with it a rather pungent smell that wasn't there before. Shortly after a long stable came into view. A stable that was housing more than one brown beast.

Oh God, Merlin was taking him riding.

He spared half a thought to marvel that Merlin a) had money enough to have so many horses, and b) that Merlin could ride them before his thoughts dominated on one in particular. He was going riding. On a horse.

Merlin strode on, going over to one of two mounts already saddled and waiting for them. There was a basket on the one he chose, a massive brown beast that nudged Merlin when he got close enough.

'I can't ride,' Arthur choked out, eyeing up the white horse. It was obvious this one was meant for him.

Merlin didn't seem perturbed by Arthur's admission, seeming delighted in it instead. A single, 'Yet,' rang around the stable as Merlin busied himself in one of the stalls. He came out with a stool, placing it next to the white monster and motioning Arthur forward. 'It's quite easy when you get the hang of it.'

'What if I don't want to get the hang of it.' He remembered when Morgana was at that stage where she wanted a horse. Their father had held strong that she wasn't getting one. But he did cave in and sign her up for a few lessons. Arthur had been forced to watch as Morgana was taught this and that about horses, before being led to her own horse of the day. It was always the same, whenever she got close to the creature it bucked, its front legs carting up and stomping down with a definitive thump. He remembered the day Morgana almost got trampled by the thing. How, if she had been just that much closer, she could have had her head caved in. It had made him wary of them every since.

Merlin seemed to hear the slight fear in his tone, arching one brow and taking hold of Arthur's arm, subtly pulling him forward. 'Have you ever been riding before?'

He shook his head. 'But my sister has. I don't really think horses are my thing.'

'But you personally have never been riding?' Merlin clarified. Arthur shook his head again. Merlin grinned, 'One lesson. I'll be beside you the whole time, and if you don't like it when we get to the meadow then we'll walk back. Sound good?'

There was a challenge in there somewhere, and either Merlin was psychic or he was just easy to read since it worked like it always did. He felt his muscles steel themselves before he even said yes, resigning himself to getting on the hose.

Merlin was an okay teacher he decided. He helped Arthur up with ease, showing him where to hold and where to put his legs.

'The reigns are there more for balance than anything else,' Merlin rattled on, straddling his own horse. He reached over and took the reigns off Arthur as he spoke, starting up on a slow walk that had him clenching the saddle in front now the weight of the reigns were gone. 'You don't have to do anything if you don't feel ready. I can get us there on our own, and the horses are well trained so there'll be no resistance.' The question under his words had Arthur clenching the saddle harder. He could ask for a more hands on lesson, or let Merlin take the reigns, literally.

He supposed it would be good for him to have some hands on experience. After all, he was a history student, he should have a want to experience things people did once upon a time. Even if those things were riding eight foot horses.

His pride won out after a few minutes of silence, he coaxed the reigns back from Merlin and near demanded to know how he steered the thing.

He had a feeling they were taking the long route when Merlin started teaching him. He was slightly glad for it too. While he had his reservations about horses, he found it was actually quite fun after a while. Scary yes, he was on top of another living thing after all, and Merlin kept reminding him that there was always the possibility something could go wrong, but still fun. He could see why people liked them at any rate when Merlin finally said they had arrived. He could also see why horse riding was declared a sport when he got down and felt his thighs strain as they tried to adjust to their normal stance.

A wicker basket was pushed into his arms, Merlin telling him to set up with that stupid smirk back on his face. He thought he heard 'Payback for all those times...' but Merlin was too busy seeing to the horses to question.

He half hoped there was a portable wireless heater in the basket. He was warmer from the ride, slightly, but the wind was still biting which meant he wouldn't stay that way for long.

There wasn't a heater. Instead, there was the journal on top, with scores of food inside. Arthur recognized the cupcakes, and had a brief recollection of some things the others were made up of. If he was asked the name them however, he couldn't say for certain what they were.

Thankfully at the bottom of the basket there were blankets. Fur blankets. Two of them in fact. He lay the first one out as soon as he saw it, grabbing the second and securing it around his shoulders like a cape as soon as he was done. The warmth was immediate. He didn't condone the skinning of animals in any way, but he could see the merits of it having been done before. It kept the cold out like a wall, the only snippet of the outside getting in through the gap where fur met fur.

He heard Merlin chuckle behind him, saw him sit next to him in the next instance. He didn't care if Merlin begged, there was no way he was sharing this blanket. It was his own fault for coming out in barely anything.

Merlin didn't ask for the blanket. He reached for the basket instead, tossing the journal aside again like it meant nothing. Arthur was starting to wonder if he did it on purpose, just to get a rise out of him. The food came out next, Merlin looking delighted as he pulled out row after row of food.

'I made these myself. I'm quite good, if I do say so myself.' He pushed the cupcakes over, Arthur grabbing one and shoving it in his mouth before his fingers could freeze. He had to admit, if only a little, that Merlin's boasting wasn't completely false.

After the cupcakes came the other sweets, Merlin explaining each one and telling Arthur to try them. He seemed fascinated with Arthur eating them, watching his reactions like the hunting bird he was named after. Arthur would have minded but he was too busy eating to care.

He found a quick favourite with an old sweet Merlin said was around pre Saxon, the recipe having been noted down in one of the journals. Arthur was pleased both at the fact Merlin had admitted there were more journals, and that Merlin had seen these things and thought Arthur would like them for their trip today. It was kind of sweet, which was why Arthur cast those thoughts away immediately and told Merlin to get reading.

He couldn't be thinking like this. He had came here for history, not for Merlin. Besides, the man was obviously an idiot, it would be stupid of Arthur to even think of Merlin in that light. Someone who couldn't even think to put a coat on would probably be a horrible-

He refocused on the journal, Merlin flipping through it and actually lying down on the cold hard ground before starting where he left off. Moron.

The strangers turned out to be travellers, one who had heard Merlin wasn't exactly native to this village. They had come to ask about his homeland, about the people there, and the treasures, how they might get there if they so looked. Something Merlin gave willingly, recalling on the stars he had followed and the dreams he had gotten since landing. The way back was clear to him.

Arthur asked why he was so happy to give up this information to complete strangers, Merlin told him to shut up and listen.

The strangers had went off back to their own villages, Merlin getting by afterwards by helping get rid of more Nisse. Apparently the little mischief makers had too Merlin shooing them out the first time as a challenge. They had returned twofold and made it their aim to annoy the living hell out of everyone. Merlin had managed to chuck the last of them out with a versed 'spell' when the strangers returned again almost a year later.

The first thing they did was gift him a golden cross, one Merlin recognised from the shore of his homeland. He remembered seeing that before he was tied in his boat. The king at the time had dragged him half unconscious into the monastery, praying for his soul and hoping God would work his plan by deciding whether Merlin would live or die in his exile. He had tuned out most of the latin, his gaze blurry at best, but he did remember that cross. It stood for everything that had changed, everything he had failed to save.

The travellers had come with a proposition. They had raided the coast at least five times since last they spoke, and discovered the treasures Merlin had promised were there. They had thought to repay him for his help, and ask him if he would like to come with them on their next raid.

Merlin said no.

He said no the next time they asked too. Then the next. They wanted his knowledge on the land with them, hoping to get more treasure to bring back by employing someone who knew where such treasures lay. Merlin still said no. He didn't want treasure.

The raids went on for five years before Merlin finally decided it was time to get involved. By then word had travelled all around the villages that treasure could be found on this land. Volunteers had came and went, all seeking his permission before venturing to the boats waiting to lead them on.

He took his leave with five other men, arriving at the docks and meeting hall to the latest leaving party. There were at least fifty men and women gathered, drinking and eating as they made praise to the Gods for safe travel. Merlin worked fast through the night, denying drink so he could keep a clear head. He spoke to those that would listen about opportunities. Ones they would not get here. There was a reason people travelled after all. They didn't like what was waiting for them, needed something better, and Merlin had just the solution for them.

By morning he had transformed the hall from a raiding to invading party.

The journal spoke of the boat ride next, the seasickness and storms that rocked the frail boat on its long journey. Merlin skipped a few pages here, showing Arthur where the waters had made it illegible. He said it was more about the journey anyway, and stopped altogether when the boat breeched Britain's shores.

'Why'd you stop?' He heard the reason as he spoke, his teeth were chattering like crazy. While his arms were snug underneath the blanket his head was clear to the winter winds. He had mostly blocked out how cold he was, too enraptured on this author being part of an invading party. But now his mind was unoccupied, and head almost dizzy from how cold it was.

Merlin didn't seem bothered at all. He was pale, but that was his usual colouring. There was no shivering, or other sign that he was freezing. He stood almost gracefully, well, more gracefully than Arthur as he stood on shaking legs, as he went to fetch the horses.

Arthur thought he had merely glanced away for a moment but it must have been longer. When he looked back the fur they had lay on was gone, as were the sweets and journal. All of it was back in the wicker basket being attached to Merlin's horse. Arthur's horse was looking at him expectedly.

'Think you can manage getting back to the manor?'

Arthur wasn't sure he could move never mind get on a horse. He would have said so to Merlin too had he been able through the shivers. Merlin laughed, probably reading the snarky response on his face and guided Arthur gently to his own horse.

'Don't worry, I have the fires going back home.'

It took some attempts to get Arthur on the horse, even more so for him to get comfortable enough to be sure he wasn't going to fall off with all the shivering. He didn't let go of the fur for one moment, the temperature seemed to have dropped further, the sky darkening despite it only being four in the afternoon. He was actually glad when Merlin hopped up behind him, skinny as he was, he was still warm, and the constant stream of chatter in his ear was pleasant to tune out if it meant his ears were warming up.

Merlin sent him to the house while he took care of the horses, Arthur flat out running as soon as he was given permission. True to his word the fires were roaring when he stepped in. The blanket was almost too much as his body started to warm up.

He promised himself as he sank into the nearest chair, that the next time Merlin suggested a winter picnic he was punching him. Hard. In his stupid grinning face.


	4. Chapter 4

He learnt a lot about Merlin in the next few weeks he visited. Both Merlin's in fact.

The author not only joined an invading party, he lead a pretty badass battle for land. The journal left off at Merlin taking one of the Saxon strongholds, organising the scant few who decided to stay and ready the place for their families into a semblance of structure. There was the mention of wyrms, Merlin wondering if he should wake them up before the entry finished leaving Arthur wanting more.

He had soon suggested, near demanded, Merlin start the next one. It hadn't took a lot of persuading. It seemed Merlin was more than happy to have Arthur around, the two of them spending their winter holed up in front of the fire and reading tales of Viking glory.

Sometimes they didn't even read the journals. Merlin had so much to say about everything that more often than not Arthur found himself preferring to listen to him speak about that than the worn pages. The riding lessons had happened twice more since their acquaintance, Merlin insisting that if he enjoyed it he should learn to be a proficient rider. Thankfully he had managed to dissuade Merlin from making it more than a riding lesson.

Of course, with keeping in touch with Merlin it was more than predictable that the man would start taking stage in his dreams. Arthur had thought the small scene of Merlin waking him in that fairy-tale bed would be a one time thing, dreams of Vikings or horse riding taking its place. He was proven wrong when he had almost bi-weekly dreams of Merlin showing up in his worn loose shirts and up to something or other.

_The latest had Arthur standing in a wood, the air warm and tickling his hair. The tree he was leaning on was one of the largest he had ever seen, its oak so thick he could probably stretch out lengthways and still not reach its girth._

_Merlin was in front of him, a circle of knights sitting in a circle a ways off._

_He almost laughed as he recognized Leon amongst them. At least, he thought it was Leon. There was something rough about him, his nose a bit more crooked. There was also that air of different that followed everyone in his dreams._

_The rest of them were complete strangers, but in the dream it felt like they were friends. More than friends, practically brothers. There was a sombre air surrounding them, even Merlin's face that was always cracking at least half a smile at default was stuck in a frown._

_'They would follow you in death,' Merlin said, his words for the men and eyes only for Arthur. There was fear in there, the shell Arthur was wearing picking up on it too. 'I hope you know I will too.'_

_He could feel the worry, somehow his dream self growing more unnerved the longer Merlin remained like this. 'I know Merlin. Now, if you're done planning our funerals you can go fetch the horses, I doubt the knights would be very happy to learn they had to walk because my useless servant forgot to grab them.'_

_The fear left, exasperation replacing it. 'You know, they're grown men, they're perfectly capable and faster at getting their horses than if I did it.'_

_Arthur could feel his body perking up, the repertoire familiar and comforting amongst the gloomy forest. 'Yes, I know. But you're forgetting one thing Merlin.'_

_'What?'_

_'They're not the servant.'_

_He shoved the man over to where the horses were tied, pushing himself off his tree to face the men sitting around him. Arthur felt his dream self look around them, his gaze going over each of his knights individually. Arthur thanked his shell for it, all of them were fascinating and easier to look at than think about the well of fear that sat in his own stomach. He felt like this was the last time he was seeing them, and knew whatever was happening wasn't good._

He woke with the remnants of their faces in his mind, wishing he could put names to them.

Still, at least he could put a name to one of them, the knight himself making breakfast when Arthur deemed himself alive enough to get out of bed.

'We need to fix our heating,' He yawned grabbing plates and second guessing whether they needed cutlery. He didn't know if he could be bothered to actually do the dishes today, and there was already a mountain waiting for them.

'You need to call your sister back, she's been harping on at me all morning.'

He had a bad feeling this was about his Christmas present. He had neglected going home this year on the excuse he had work to do. His father had made some snide comment about history being too much for him, and sisters pretty much agreeing it was best he stay away this year. It also meant he could visit Merlin, someone he actually wanted to spend time with. So he had shipped off his Christmas presents in the post and told them to expect them whenever. Which apparently was today.

'Did she sound mad?'

Leon shrugged, 'She sounded like Morgana.' Which was pretty accurate for his sister. You could never actually tell if she was mad. Not over the phone anyway. Really, he needed to be face to face with her, to see if she was glaring or making that stupid smug face of hers.

'When did she say to-' The phone rang, almost like a death sentence around the room. He contemplated leaving it until after breakfast. But with Morgana it was better to just get it over with, she was like his father that way, he couldn't put it off or it would be worse in the long run.

'I can't believe you sleep this late,' greeted him, his sister as warm in her hello's as ever. 'Do you realise how long I've been ringing? I know you're busy living the 'student life' but that should be no excuse for not answering your phone.'

'Are you done?' Was probably the wrong thing to say, but it was too early for him to think about filtering his mouth.

Morgana huffed and got back on topic. It turned out she had more than loved the present Arthur had gotten her. Uther had made an underhanded comment about Arthur buying frivolous things, to which she ignored by wearing it all day.

'It's so soft, and it makes me feel like little red riding hood. I swear, if I could wear this outside without getting weird looks, I would.' She continued to lavish praises at him all the way through his breakfast, even when he said he had to get showered she rambled on about how much she was loving her present.

Despite his complaining about not having to hear this, he was actually taking notes. It was rare for Morgana to truly love something he'd bought her, he made sure to listen about what she actually liked about this particular present.

About an hour after he answered the phone he was let go. Breathing easily again, he grabbed his coat and went to check in on Leon before heading out.

'I have a friend coming over,' he said, eyes glued to his phone. If Arthur couldn't read the subtext behind that, he wasn't a good friend.

'Got it, stay out late and make little noise when I come in.'

Leon huffed, finally tearing his eyes away from his screen. 'I really have a friend coming over.'

'Sure you do,' Arthur agreed, checking he had his keys.

'I do.'

'I believe you.'

Merlin had a surprise waiting for Arthur when he turned up at the manor. Really, after three weeks of being friends with Merlin he had thought he was immune to being surprised. The week before Merlin had surprised him with a feast, teaching him about yule throughout the years. The food had been indescribable, Merlin making things, again, that he couldn't name but tasted like heaven. When they had finished, a string of violins had sounded throughout the manor, the tune jolly and Merlin trying to teach him how to dance. Really it was a lot of flailing about, Merlin telling him there was no organised moves until the Norman invasion, the French being a big influence on synchronisation. Arthur was enjoying himself, fascinated with the fact it sounded like a horde of violins were actually playing somewhere. It had been one of the most enjoyable Christmas' he'd ever experienced, and made it feel like there was nothing Merlin could do to top that, surprise him more.

Of course he was wrong when they bypassed the library altogether, like they had been for a the last few visits now, and instead came to one of the larger ballrooms the manor had.

'If we're going to dance again I think I should change my shoes.' He had wore his trainers, the likes of which had already tracked in their fair share of mud. He didn't want to mark Merlin's home further.

'We're not dancing. And your shoes are fine. I don't mind if you make a mess.' He disappeared out of the room for a while, leaving Arthur wondering what on earth was in store. He got his answer when Merlin came back with a sack, the insides clanging as he got out a hauberk- an actual hauberk- and a sword. 'I must warn you, I'm not the best at teacher. Or even master at sword fighting. Really I'm better with, well, something else. But I'm not bad either. It took a while but I'm pretty sure I can teach you the basics.'

'Oh dear God you're trying to kill me.' The sword was real, really, really real. It was thick, long and looking like it should have belonged in Game of thrones not in Merlin's hand. The hilt was inlaid with gold, he was told, a lot of gold as well. It wound around the hilt and expanded into an open mouthed dragon at the end. It was beautiful, and thankfully blunt.

They spent half an hour with Merlin teaching him what each thing in the sack was. The helmet, braces and even the scabbard that the sword went into. Merlin then helped him get them on, the metal heavier than he thought it would be.

'How did people fight in these?' He asked, interrupting Merlin's history lesson on the era's each of the equipment was from.

'They built muscle,' Merlin said, to which Arthur cast a pointed look at his skinny frame. There didn't look to be much there, and yet he was holding himself like he usually would. 'They also trained in it daily. It just became something they got used to.'

Arthur felt like complaining more, something which Merlin seemed to sense as he thrust the sword in Arthur's direction and told him to have at it. He didn't question it. It felt stupid, fun, to swing the sword around like he was a knight in a medieval match. He also had enough faith in Merlin that he wouldn't actually let Arthur kill him. True enough, after three wild swings Merlin stopped them and started to give instructions. He adjusted his feet, his grip on his sword, where he should actually aim for.

The instructions helped him, and didn't make him feel like he looked like a complete idiot as he went for Merlin. He found himself laughing after a while, Merlin grinning similarly as they traded movie quotes in the midst of a half fight.

It became apparent that Merlin was better than he said he was. Either that or Arthur really was horrible at this. His slight frame made him faster than Arthur, helped by his long legs that were already retreating or stepping through before he even there. He also knew more than a few dirty tricks that had Arthur's sword flying more than once.

They were at it for an hour before Arthur begged a break. He didn't think he would be this wiped out, but Merlin had been on to something about knights having muscle. By the end of his session he was sweating and so low to the ground from the weight of both the sword and armour he was surprised he wasn't on the floor. Merlin didn't look fazed, chuckling something about practice as he pried Arthur's armour off.

'This isn't going to be another horse thing is it?' He didn't think he would survive if he had to do both this and horse riding with Merlin.

Of course, Merlin didn't see that as a complaint, humming under his breath before saying, 'That's not a bad idea actually. Maybe once a week.'

He heard himself complain, or at least try to, as his chest became lighter again.

It took coaxing, and the promise of water, to get him moving. Merlin offered his shower, something Arthur was very tempted to use. He hadn't seen the private quarters of the house yet. He was sure it was just as lavish as the rest of the manor, and knew it would be better than his crappy shower back home. But Arthur also knew that he was about one seat away from never getting up again, so he had to politely decline Merlin's offer and make another date to meet up.

'Preferably not to fence or ride this time Merlin. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be feeling dead for at least a week.'

Merlin agreed, even offering to come by Arthur's flat instead the next time he was free. It took a while for him to agree, realising that they hadn't actually been together at Arthur's flat since meeting. It felt grubby compared to this place. But Merlin didn't seem to have a problem with it the last time he was over, in fact he made himself right at home, so he agreed and left Merlin putting their armour back wherever he'd got it.

He was sure he almost collapsed three times getting back to his flat. He outwardly groaned getting his keys out, and was more than ready to get into bed when he finally got his door open.

He remembered his promise to be quiet around the time he'd stomped like an elephant to his room. He hoped to God Leon didn't hold this against him, or at least blamed Merlin more than him since it was his fault.

He showered, cursing Merlin's very existence as every time he raised his arms, and ended up completely ignoring clothes in favour of dropping into bed face first. He dropped off for a while, too tired to even dream, before a knock pushed sleep away for a while.

'Come in.' He thought he said, more sure a series of garbles had come out instead.

Leon took one look at him and laughed, which was good since it meant he wasn't here to tell him off for making so much noise. 'Thought I'd ask if you wanted something to eat before we order.'

'Is it covered in grease?' A nod. 'Call me when it's here.'

The door rang half an hour later signalling that yes, if he wanted food he would have to get up. It took more than one attempt, and Leon yelling at him three times before he shuffled into the living room.

He knew Leon's guest was still there, the 'we' when he asked whether he wanted anything to eat made that clear. Arthur had been expecting a girl. Despite Leon's complaints that morning he knew his friend was shy about bringing girls around, and more than once the 'friend' had been a girl who Arthur had accidentally scared away. He was more careful these days, and was careful now as he made his plan to eat and run.

But it wasn't a girl. Instead, there was a man in his living room looking right at home in front of the TV.

'This is Elyan,' Leon introduced, throwing Arthur a carton of something as he made more introductions.

Arthur barely caught it, to curious about this man. He felt like he had seen him before, which was probably why he eased himself down in the living room instead of retreating.

Elyan was a quiet man, reserved. He reminded Arthur of Leon, which was probably why the two of them were friends. It also meant that Arthur knew just how to get him to loosen up. A quick story about Leon accidentally shoplifting a few weeks ago when he was recovering from his essay stress had Elyan laughing. After that Arthur heard stories about Elyan's sister, the room much more comfortable.

It was only when they turned their attention back to the TV that Arthur placed where he'd seen Elyan. It was in his dream, this morning. Elyan and Leon sitting around the campfire with a group of other men.

He had to excuse himself for a while.


	5. Chapter 5

'Do you think dreams have a deeper meaning?' Arthur asked the next time he saw Merlin. He didn't even wait until Merlin had kicked his shoes off, merely asked the question off the bat walking to his room.

'Like prophecy? At least Merlin didn't think he was crazy. In fact he looked intrigued. 'What kind of things have you been dreaming of?'

Arthur shrugged, wondering if he could actually tell Merlin about the land he always woke up in. He'd had a few more after their fencing lesson. In one of them he'd been with the knights again. Just seeing Leon and Elyan in their chainmail had creeped him out enough to wake up. The other one had been about the girl again, thank God. They'd been on a picnic, Merlin complaining every time Arthur had him change the location for the perfect view. In the end he just decided to talk about Elyan, telling Merlin that he'd seen the man in his dreams before actually meeting him. 'At least, I think I haven't met him before. Leon said he'd met him at a five a side football game.'

'You don't like football?'

'I've been busy with Uni. Besides, Leon gets a bit competitive when he plays. Last time he actually helped me score a goal, something I don't need since I can actually play without his help.'

Merlin chuckled. 'So this Elyan, what was he doing in the dreams?'

Arthur told him about the fire, and the next one where there was some kind of training session in place. Merlin seemed to grow more pale as Arthur spoke, swallowing heavily when he was done to tell him not to dwell on them.

'I mean, it's not like you actually believe in magic.' To which Arthur had to agree. He was probably just tired from all the extra activities Merlin had him doing. He probably had seen Elyan before. Merlin seemed to be needing Arthur to change the subject, taking the journal out of his jacket pocket- someday Arthur was going to take all of them away from him- and making room on Arthur's bed for the two of them to sit on. 'So we left Merlin off making a treaty with the Saxon king.'

He cast his thoughts on Elyan aside. It was better this way, ignorance was bliss after all. Also Merlin was surprisingly nice to lean on, his chirpy voice interesting to listen to as he found his place again.

The stronghold they'd made in the old Saxon fort had been surrounded for weeks now. They had hoped to starve the invaders out. Something that usually would have worked, had they not Merlin. He knew the ins and out of this place, having explored it thoroughly while the others found places to make their own.

With his help, the invaders had access to food and water without having to struggle. The envoys the Saxons sent looked more underfed than Merlin's people by the time talk of a treaty had been breached- probably because Merlin had been stealing from them too.

The Saxons sent their king, a man who recognised Merlin as soon as he saw him. He'd left a lasting impression on these people, having attacked each of their kingdoms in the bid to save his own. The king took one look at him and begged a reprieve to regroup himself, his plan having been lost in his shock.

The next time the king came he had insisted on bringing at least half of his men. Merlin let him, this was about peace after all. Or it should have been. He knew when the request was made that peace would never happen. The treaty had been there in the first place to lure the invaders out of their fort for slaughter. Merlin had been spying on them from day one, had coerced men into his employ so he knew exactly what was going on. His people had been hesitant at first when he said it was alright to let half an army into their fort. He'd shared everything with them, knowing them to be of a more honourable people than those who had taken his home. Which was why he told them it was a fight either way. They were growing restless out there, needing their blood, so they needed to make sure they had the advantage when the fighting broke out.

The day of the talks Merlin had his people split up. There were few of them sure, the others having not arrived yet, but that didn't mean they couldn't win. The army came in, the doors bolting behind them and sending them into a panic. The king had his men scour for Merlin, making him their prior target. It was just too bad none of them knew what he looked like. The king hadn't time for descriptions, and since his army was made up of men he had probably never seen before in his life before now left him with an army following any male they came across. Every man on Merlin's side had been instructed to lead those they had further into the fort, cutting them off and taking them out. It was slow work, tiring, but after hours of cat and mouse they only had the kings retinue to deal with.

With so few, all it took was Merlin and his people appearing before them before talk of peace was spoke of again. He made his demands, and since the king could not go for more men he was stuck agreeing to all of them.

He expected the retreat the next day, the king looking to follow the treaty. But Merlin knew it was all a ploy, he'd seen this tactic in action when they had stormed-

'Stormed?' Arthur asked, trying to read the word himself. All he could make out was a bunch of squiggles, and wished to God he could read this language.

'The writing's too blurry to make out,' Merlin said, carrying on with the rest of his tale.

For some reason Arthur didn't believe him. However he let it go. Merlin could keep some of his secretes he supposed, so long as it wasn't all of them.

They got up to the part where Merlin ventured outside of the fort looking for allies in the upcoming fight before the journal was shut. Arthur had a protest on his lips before the door slammed and Leon's voice rang out in their flat.

'I brought Elyan again, so if you're going to be all weird just stay in your room.' He heard laughs, one coming from beside him as well at that comment and glared pointedly at Merlin.

'You're funny when you pout,' Merlin excused.

'And you're annoying when you're trying to be funny Merlin.' He couldn't stop the pout that stayed on his face as Merlin laughed again no matter how hard he tried. He quickly wiped it off his face as soon as he could. 'Are you staying for something to eat. I can't cook, but Leon's probably going to be ordering something now he's got Elyan around.'

Merlin hummed, 'I could always cook.'

Arthur was tempted. He was more than tempted. He'd sampled Merlin's food first-hand in the weeks since they met and had to say he was more than a little in love with it. Half of it he couldn't even pronounce or know existed, but somehow Merlin made it edible, and always had Arthur trying to sneak seconds or a takeaway box before he left.

Still, 'Isn't there some rule about the guest not cooking?'

Merlin shrugged, face set now no actual resistance was met. 'I don't mind. Besides, you need some actual food before your belt starts needing extra holes.

Arthur was musing about what Merlin had in mind when the insult finally set. 'Are you calling me fat?' he called as Merlin grinned and grabbed his coat, yelling something about getting ingredients before Arthur could start in on his fitness regime. He was not fat.

He was stewing on a criticism for Merlin as the man worked around the kitchen. He could always go for the ears, but somehow Arthur actually found them endearing rather than funny. They just added to his cheeky charm. He looked for something else, but damn it Merlin was just too fascinating to make fun of. Not to mention he was making Arthur something to eat, insulting him now might result in no food at all. With the way Elyan and Leon were practically salivating as they came out of their pit he knew that any wrong move here and those two would be getting his share.

In the end he held his tongue, and was rewarded when an extra helping was sent his way before he even asked for it. Merlin was fascinating all the way through dinner. Despite having only met him once, and in Elyan's case not at all, he made fast friends with the other two. By the end of the meal he was fighting off requests to stay later or go drinking.

'Maybe another time,' Merlin said shouldering his coat. 'As it is I have to get up early tomorrow.'

'Big day?' Arthur asked, he had never heard what Merlin actually did for a living. Whatever it was he knew it had to be paying well. That or he had a good inheritance. No one could afford the things he had without one or the other.

But it looked like Arthur would be left wondering again as Merlin said, 'I'm just looking for something,' before he was out the door.

'He seems nice,' Leon said, as the silence settled.

Arthur didn't deign him with a response. He didn't really know what to say, agreeing Merlin was nice just asked for Leon to start with the teasing, he could see the barbs building behind his eyes. If he kept quiet he could keep some of his dignity.

Of course that didn't stop Leon starting again in the morning. He seemed itching for a response, dropping in about Arthur spending a lot of time over at Merlin's. How Arthur had been talking about him a lot these days. How Merlin was sort of good looking in a weird goofy way that only a guy who liked other blokes would appreciate.

'I see what you're hinting at,' Arthur told him when Leon made another comment about how Arthur always seemed to be smiling when he came back fro Merlin's. 'And I would like it to stop. You're not getting any ammunition from me.'

Leon grinned, 'So there is something.'

'I'm not answering.'

It had been another few days before Leon prompted Arthur to bring Merlin around again. He knew it was in part to get something to tease Arthur with and the rest because they had ran out of food. He heard Leon invite Elyan over again with the words, 'If we play it right Merlin might cook again.' and had a resounding yes with Elyan turning up an hour later.

They hounded him until he called Merlin, and hounded him again when Merlin didn't pick up. After two more tries he hid his phone from his friends and told them to order something in. He wasn't going to look like he was desperate.

He tried Merlin again the next day and got nothing again. The next, he tried once and decided that if Merlin wanted to get in touch he would have to ring Arthur instead. After that he started wondering if something was wrong. If he had done something wrong. Oh God he was starting to sound as desperate as he tried not to be.

It was on the fifth day of no contact that Arthur finally heard from Merlin. Well, he said heard, he was lying in bed when he heard the knock at the door. Merlin was on the other side, looking like he had just went through war and back. He was covered in scratches, from his face to his arms where he held a hoodie that was more holes than cloth. There was blood on his shirt, dried now but looked to have seeped through from the gouges on his chest. Still, despite all that there was that stupid grin on Merlin's face, delighted that Arthur had opened the door to him.

'What the hell happened to you!'

It took a shower and more plasters than Arthur currently owned for Merlin to start looking like he didn't need a trip to the hospital. He kept that stupid grin on his face all the way through Arthur's curses and name calling, giving as good as he got when Arthur got creative. He'd just about had it when Merlin told him he was fine.

'You look like an extra from Dawn of the Dead, you are not alright.'

Merlin took a plaster from Arthur's hands, stopping him from the circles his hands were making as they tried to decide on a scratch that needed it the most. 'First of all, I have a medical licence, I can tell you that I'm perfectly fine. Secondly, Dawn of Dead extras are zombies. Pretty sure my heart's still beating.'

Arthur hit Merlin on the back of his head before he even thought about the damage it could do to his wounds. But the damage had been done, so Arthur forged on with, 'That's not the point and you know it Merlin. What on earth happened to you?'

Merlin shrugged, 'I didn't really think things through.'

'What?'

Merlin wasn't making sense, and seemed to be taking a page out of Arthur's book as he refused to say anything else about it. What he did say didn't really make sense either. All Arthur could really get out of him was that Merlin had wanted to ask what Arthur wanted before going home. Apparently his phone had been off and had been worried with all the times Arthur had rang him earlier in the week. He was pretty sure his face was burning by the time Merlin had finished. Even more when he had to admit it was nothing, just wondering if Merlin wanted to come over again.

'That was nice of you.'

'Leon just wanted you to cook,' Arthur tried to fight the redness, he wasn't going to be blushing because of Merlin. Merlin.

'And you didn't want to see me at all?' Merlin asked, looking like he was fighting laughter.

'Of course I did.' Merlin practically beamed, 'How else am I meant to know about your great great something grandfather if I don't see you?'

Merlin kept the beam. 'You were worried about me.'

'Don't be stupid.'

'You thought something might have happened.'

'Well I wasn't wrong,' the scratches proved that.

Arthur near forced Merlin to stay a while longer, he didn't trust the man to not fall down dead on his way home. Not to mention he was curious about Merlin. He had a medical licence? There was a story Arthur needed to hear.

Apparently he had gotten it in the army. The army. What was going on with this man? He had been tricked into signing up by his last girlfriend, the woman hoping he would die abroad and be left with his fortune to take care of. She'd even taken care of his will, something he hadn't known until he came home with a bullet through his knee and a rather peeved girlfriend wondering why he was still alive.

He said he'd been a doctor for a while before that, or training to be one. Something which Arthur wasn't too convinced on since Merlin kept backpedalling and changing his story. It was suspicious, but Merlin had the scar to prove his story so he couldn't outwardly call him a liar.

He convinced Merlin to stay a while longer when he started looking even more ruffled the longer Arthur looked at him.

Eventually he made sure it got late enough that Merlin had no choice but to accept the offer of sleeping over. It was for Merlin's own good. Sure, if it made Arthur feel better knowing that his wayward friend would still be there when he woke up that was on him. But mainly it was because he was looking after Merlin's wellbeing.

He was sure they woke Leon arguing over who was going to get the bed. Why Merlin couldn't see that, as the invalid, it was only right for him to take it was just beyond him. Merlin was impossible. Even when Arthur left the room to curl up on his couch he found himself waking up in his own bed, Merlin sleeping soundly in the blankets he was sure he'd been under that night.

The question of how Merlin actually moved him had him occupied enough over breakfast. There was no way Merlin could lift him. Sure, he could lift swords and God knows what else, but Arthur? No. He knew for a fact Leon had trouble lifting him- and it wasn't because he was fat- more the muscle he had built up over the years adding to his overall weight. So Merlin couldn't have.

Maybe he had dragged him...

'I see Merlin's okay,' Leon greeted, going straight for Arthur's breakfast.

'He's alive.' Arthur wasn't sure if okay was really the thing to be said about Merlin. He was far from okay, the blood still staining the clothes in Arthur's dingy washing machine proved that. Not to mention he wasn't really all that okay even when he was in one piece. There was just some oddity about Merlin, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He didn't think he wanted to either. If he was more than honest with himself it was that oddness that had him so intrigued.


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin went in search of allies in all corners of the kingdoms. He searched the nobility for any sign of those who he had long ago considered friends. But times had changed since he had last been comfortable on this island.

The nobility as he knew it was gone. Interbred at best, slaughtered at worst.

He visited Tintagel, the towering ruins that once housed him for safety knocked down a few hundred years ago. Nothing but stone ruptures, places marked in wood, showed historians and note-takers where once noble pillars lay. He'd known before he left in exile that this place was gone. Had been since the first wave. But often in the days of his rebelliousness he had used it as a place to meet with others. Druids and natives alike who sought to rid their land of the Saxons.

No one was there. No one had been there for a while. The fire pit where he sat with those people was dead, its embers burnt out and blown off. Nothing had even sought shelter, which both saddened and gave an idea to Merlin. The people were gone, but the safe haven untouched. If no one knew of it then it could be used once more for its intended purpose.

He thought, at first, to use it for the Northmen. When the next boats came they would need somewhere to meet while they raided and extended their claim upon the land. This would be ideal. But he also wanted some hope for the people. Those who still remembered and lived by the old ways.

So he travelled again.

To Mercia where the Saxons had replaced the dark husky castle with a more modest cathedral, the palace beside it shadowed by their Christian Gods desires. The people didn't notice Merlin as he walked their streets. Didn't recognise nor remember him. He thought it funny how easily people forget a face, but then, last he was here he was bloodied and beaten, dragged through the streets like an animal as was his punishment before the boat.

He visited Essetir, now renamed as a larger kingdom stretching more than half it was in its glory days. The people here didn't recognise Merlin either.

Nor did they in Northumberland, Caerleon, or Lot's kingdom.

Which made it all too easy, in the end, to find the places within each village, city and town where those who would ordinarily not be found dwelled.

The witches had went underground. More haggard in looks and demeanour as a hunt more brutal than that before brought little of food or nourishment their way. Merlin did what he could to soften them up. Bringing them herbs, and knowledge of lands where their kind was still revered. He brought them hope of driving the Saxons out and bringing that land of magic, of freedom, to their home should they only just help him.

Not many believed him. Some even turned themselves and him over to the guards for slaughter. But he got out of those easily enough, and by the time he started his journey back to his people he had some followers interested in his preaches.

'So, let me get this straight. This Merlin, instead of amassing an underground resistance full of soldiers and, I don't know, people who can wield a sword, has recruited witches?'

'Yes,' Merlin said like this was the most common thing to happen.

Arthur thought him insane, but then it wasn't his journal he was reading from. Besides, witches could always be code for something. Merlin did say it was written to fool the Saxons.

'Alright then.'

So Merlin had some followers, but he knew it wasn't them that he needed to win this fight. It took a while, longer than he should have been out, to find any last trace of his friends, the last friends he had really. It came one day, while he was fishing in a stream not far from where he used to live. He had made quick work of the meat, slicing it up and cooking it without drawing attention with a fire, hoping he could outlast the night without having to make one too. Yet the days had been cold of late, a quick frost turning the lush greens around him various shades of grey and white.

Shivers wracked his body as night fell, the need for some kind of outside influence prominent. It put him on a stick trail, trying to find logs and wood that were dry enough to burn. The frost didn't make it easy, no sooner had he found one that looked like it would do he found shakes of white on the other side, the damp forest floor bathing them in moisture that was sure to freeze in this temperature. He had cursed it at the time, but on reflection he was rather glad the need for wood was not sated in those first few steps. It meant he was led further into the forest, along the grassy floor until he needed to use his magic to keep him right. It was here he stumbled upon the dent in the ground. His foot sliding on top of the packed earth until it was cradled on all sides. The footprint was large, almost three times the size of Merlin's own. It stretched in a narrow cavern and petered off in three long shards. It was recent, and he recognised it instantly. His friends.

'If you tell me he's about to go summon a dragon I swear Merlin I'm not calling you around here again,' Arthur said, fighting the urge to groan at the obviousness of the story. More and more he was believing this was some tale the old Merlin had cooked up to placate the settlers while they waited for the boats, there was no way this was actually happening. Witches, Castles that shouldn't have existed until the Norman conquest and now dragons. This was sounding more like something out of the Lord of the Rings than actual history.

Merlin, beside him, was biting his lip, his hunched shoulders shaking as he held in obvious laughter. It all just confirmed that Arthur was right, Merlin was looking for dragons. Still, he had the sense to say, 'Not dragons per se.'

'Then what?'

The journal shut with a careless slap, Merlin grinning at the predictable glare Arthur sent his way from the lack of care to the book. 'You'll just have to find out next time we see each other. You're in too much of a mood right now to have an open mind.'

'I am not in a mood.' He tried to straighten his face out from its pout, knowing his tone of voice wasn't helping matters. He really hated when Merlin did this, stopped reading just as things were getting good. At this rate Arthur was never going to find out what the hell happened. Even if he could just go online and look it up it wouldn't have the same rawness, the same credibility- or lack of with a narrator like Merlin- that the journal did.

Merlin remained unrelenting, tossing the journal aside and stretching from Arthur's bed. 'Let's do something else.'

They had decided to meet here again instead of Merlin's home. For one because classes were starting up again and Arthur had work to do. For another because he didn't think he could handle another surprise thrust upon him like last time. Merlin had involved him in a meditation session. It was on the pretence that it might help Arthur make sense of his dreams, the likes of which weren't getting any better the longer he had them. The other week he dreamt he was back in that old chamber of his, the girl he had met in the first dream across from him and wearing what could only be Queenly colours. They were toasting something, or eating. All he could remember from the dream was the dark look she gave him as his insides started screaming. Poison, he knew that much, and had woke throwing up. Merlin had seemed worried when he told him, hence the meditation.

They had done it in Merlin's parlour room, the place cleared of furniture- somehow, he still didn't know how Merlin could lift a saddle never mind a chair on his own- and a ring of chalk set up. There was incense that burned his eyes, and instructions that seemed ridiculous, yet he had hoped against hope that it would help somehow.

It didn't. After an hour he had to beg out of the room, his eyes watering from so many different smokes. Merlin hadn't mentioned it since, but Arthur knew if he went back to Merlin's house right now there would be something there to help him make sense of his subconscious.

But, they weren't at Merlin's home. Instead they were at Arthur's, which meant barely anything in the fridge and a computer with a dozen books on top for entertainment. They could always go watch TV, but Leon was there, and Arthur wasn't enjoying his tone lately when it came to matters concerning himself and Merlin.

They ended up going out, Arthur protesting the whole way since Merlin had still not recovered from his nightly excursion a few weeks back. There were still faint scratches on his face, the ones below his shirt probably still there too, and Arthur knew they had to be stinging a fair bit. He remembered a time when Morgana had scratched him for taking her doll. She had got him right on his stomach, the injury hurting him every time he so much as stretched until it faded away completely. To have so many and be going out, Merlin must either have a high pain tolerance or some magic remedy.

No amount of protesting would get Merlin to come back inside however, which meant Arthur was stuck trailing along beside him to make sure he didn't kill himself wherever he was going. Merlin ended up stopping at the shops, looking delighted as he roamed around.

Arthur didn't really understand what was so fascinating. They weren't going in to any of them. Nor were they seeming to head to a particular destination. Merlin would walk down one street, stop, backtrack, cross the road and head the same way again multiple times. Arthur was beginning to wonder what kind of man he had befriended. Probably one that didn't get out much from the glee in his eyes.

He was snapped out of his musings when he walked straight into Merlin's back, the thing actually quite sturdy compared to the overall image of Merlin. The man himself didn't look bothered, righting Arthur quickly before pointing to the first TopShop on the corner. 'That used to be an opium den.'

'Seriously?'

It turned out he was right about one thing, that being Merlin didn't get out that much. Or he just didn't frequent the shops that much since he started in on a narration as soon as Arthur took an interest. He was like a walking encyclopaedia, knowing this or that fact that actually made going around this place fun for once.

The opium den was underground, no doubt the back or the stairs were ones modelled on to make the lower floor. Back in the day Merlin said that there used to be beds and couches, it wasn't some drug den like how people think of it. It was classy. It was a social place, for upper-class men to indulge in a past time, or catch up with friends. It was a place to hide from their families, their lives for a while and just have fun. If Arthur didn't know better he would have thought Merlin had frequented it himself. As it was they finished with a tale about a man who accidentally walked himself home without sleeping off the effects and was ran over by a carriage, the first in a long line of accidents that would lead to Opium being banned in Britain.

'The café used to be a toy shop.' One of the first ones Merlin said. It opened up with treasure galore for children to play and ogle at. 'Before that, even after, children were just things. They only had importance when they reached a certain age. But when the toy shop opened up, the upperclassmen especially, started to see even the younger children as more than just a repercussion of lying with their wives.'

The Game shop used to be a Molly house. Something that had Merlin's cheeks turning red when Arthur asked what that was.

'A brothel,' Merlin said, the red expanding the rest of his face, 'A male one.'

'Sounds like Amsterdam.' Which had Merlin going into the legalities of prostitution throughout the years. It was all fascinating, and probably one of the most interesting afternoons Arthur had since actually going to university. Merlin seemed to know more about history than his professors did, and he knew what interested people too. He didn't spend too long going on about economics or the social problems at the time. Instead he told Arthur about funny stories that had happened to this or that as a result of something.

By the time they got back to his flat it was dark, Arthur still laughing about a story Merlin told him about a man who thought he had went to a Molly house and ended up the newest initiative in a cult. He still went back week after week, apparently, thinking that sooner or later they would bring out a boy for him, that the religious ceremonies and talk of politics were just a front so he could prove he wasn't part of the law.

'With all the stories you have about the shops I actually wonder what you know about actual old places, like that castle on the outskirts.' No doubt Merlin would have fifty thousand stories about how the tower was used to trap some maiden or the court room was used as some kind of execution pen throughout the years, Arthur could probably write his dissertation about it, and wasn't that an idea.

Merlin didn't seem all that amused, his brows drawn and looking at Arthur like he had never seen him. 'The old castle?'

Arthur nodded, 'The one on the outskirts. It's white and big. I always drive by on my way home telling myself I'll go one day.' It was a work of art. The outside was white, or used to be white, now greyed with age and with vines growing over it from no upkeep. The land around it was barren, no houses or anything to distract from the winding road leading up to the drawbridge. Arthur loved it, he fancied that was what fairy tale castles were meant to look like.

Merlin hummed, 'So, you can see it?'

'It's kind of hard to miss.'

Merlin hummed again, and in a blink his whole demeanour changed back to the easy going guy Arthur knew. 'How about I tell you some of the stories about my house next time we see each other. Preferably at my house too.' The smirk telling all about Merlin knowing why Arthur had been avoiding going there.

He made a compromise with little more begging that it could happen, so long as Merlin didn't make him fence again. He had an exam coming up and he couldn't afford to have his arms out of action because he'd been spending the whole day waving it around like some medieval king.

Yet that was exactly what Merlin had them doing when he came around. It was like he couldn't help himself, going off and coming back with a sword like it was perfectly normal to be teaching someone to use a weapon. But then, Arthur couldn't exactly talk since it wasn't like he was complaining at the time, it was almost instinct now to face Merlin off and tell him he was going to go down this time. Which usually meant he was flat on his own back instead by the time it had gotten out.

They were at it for an hour before Arthur begged a shower and something to eat. He had to give Merlin something, every time he came over whether it was to be pummelled to the floor or ridden til he was sore he always got good food from it. It was what made the other stuff somewhat tolerable to think about.


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin's showers were, as usual, amazing. He could probably spend his whole life trying out all the different settings or sitting in the swimming pool of a bathtub he had in there. As it was he took longer and longer every time he was in one to emerge, and by the time he popped out of this one the sky had darkened.

It was still daylight, that he was sure of by checking his watch and a further three clocks on his way to the kitchen. But it was raining, heavily.

Merlin was finishing off a cake when he stepped in, his eyes on the window yet the icing never wavering from where it was supposed to be. The food was delicious as always, Merlin making something he couldn't even begin to pronounce again, but apparently it was from France.

'You'd hate it there. Everyone's always talking in hidden agendas.'

It was still raining when Merlin brought him back into the library for some old Merlin time. In fact, it got worse as Merlin told all about the wyverns hiding in the caverns, and the wyrms sleeping in their underground caves. By the time Merlin had finished showing him drawings and pictures of the creatures he was describing in his library it was a full on storm outside, complete with thunder and lightning.

That was the thing about old houses in the middle of nowhere, there was nothing to distract the big noises. Every time it thundered it sounded like the earth was shattering, the noise echoing off the trees and empty land around Merlin's house, sinking into the ground and seeming to shake the foundations beneath them. It was thrilling in a weird sort of way. Especially when the power went out.

'I haven't seen a storm like this in years.' The last time had been on Morgana's fifteenth birthday. He remembered because his father had made them all hold candles, not letting a thing like power stop his precious princess' special day. Morgana had been enthralled, saying it was a sign she was special. Arthur didn't really argue with her on that, she was special in a way that only an annoying sister could be.

'You should stay tonight,' Merlin offered when the thunder boomed again.

'I don't know,' It was one thing offering to let Merlin stay at his and another to stay at Merlin's. It was in the middle of nowhere for a start, a brilliant place for murdering people and Arthur wasn't completely sure that wasn't in Merlin's agenda still. Sometimes he just got this look from him that chilled him to his bones, more so than usual these days.

But Merlin was adamant, and Arthur didn't blame him since it wasn't like he had drove over here. Walking back in this he was sure to get himself killed. 'Not counting the servant quarters I have fifteen bedrooms, you can take one for the night. Who knows, maybe I'll even cook you breakfast.'

Of course each of the fifteen Merlin showed him were the size of Arthur's apartment. They were lavish, full of nick nacks Merlin tried to play off as everyday trinkets. He could have chose any of them, but somehow ended up in the one closest to Merlin's room. He thought Merlin would have been all private about his own room, God knows there were some things Arthur wouldn't like Merlin to see if he saw his room back with his father. But Merlin invited him in, showing him where he would be if Arthur needed him, where the nearest exit was if the house got broken into. Arthur thought he was just being silly, until he remembered the circumstances of how they met. If Merlin could talk about leaving his house so casually there must have been a lot of break ins over the years.

There were a few things Arthur was dying to look over. The red cloak he could see on Merlin's trunk, the gold band hanging from one of the bed posts, mostly he wanted to get his hands on that wicked looking sword hanging above Merlin's headboard.

Merlin offered him something to wear, surprising him with something that was actually in his size. Apparently Merlin was more than just a ladies man, blushing a brilliant red as he explained one of his boyfriends was a bit of a football fan as he handed over a jersey.

They didn't go to bed right away, Arthur was too fascinated with the storm. He'd seen one before, but never in an old mansion where the windows stretched from floor to ceiling. It was something else, that was all he thought as he watched it, Merlin keeping him company for a time before sleepily telling him he was going to bed.

He barely noticed when he drifted off, but he must have since he found himself _bolting upright in a room he had only seen in his dreams. The red covers, the four poster, even the room itself was exactly as the last time he'd seen it, save for the girl. She wasn't next to him, which was rather disheartening, it had been a while since he had any good dreams like that lately._

_Instead there was a storm going on, Merlin bustling in with his arms laden with blankets. 'Sorry Arthur, it took some time finding them.'_

_'Yes well get on with it Merlin.' He collapsed back into his pillows, the chill washing over his bones again. Merlin hurried around him, laying fur after fur on top of his blanket until his feet were no longer ice._

_With his body thawed it gave him a chance to wonder at how Merlin kept himself warm. He slept in a tower room, worse he slept in a small bed with barely any blankets. Yet not once had Arthur seen him come down with a cold or sickness, not unless something drastic had happened beforehand._

_It wasn't like his clothes kept him warm. Arthur wore the finest material in the kingdom and he was still freezing. Merlin, in his threadbare shirts and thinner than parchment trousers could hardly be any better._

_It must have been the chill still affecting him that had him offering Merlin to 'Make a pallet for yourself in front of the fire tonight.' Or just good planning. After all, with Merlin there he wouldn't have to worry about it going out in the night._

_'Didn't know you cared.'_

_He kept his mouth shut, no matter what he said Merlin would have some witty response to it, and right now, he was far too tired and cold to work up a good comeback._

_Despite the fact the girl wasn't there, he had to admit this was one of the nicer dreams he had. It was cold, sure, cold enough for him to wonder how on earth he could feel it chilling his bones, but there was no one chasing him as there had been a few nights ago. There was no epic fights where he was trying to remember every move Merlin had taught him, and fighting with the other voice in his head telling him to watch out for medieval Merlin. No, he was just lying in bed, relaxing and trying to sleep._

He woke as alone as he had been going to sleep, the only difference was that last time his neck didn't hurt. The storm had died down, the only thing going on outside the pitter patter of light rain. The chair at his back wasn't as comfortable as it had been, Arthur stretching his neck out as best he could, started for bed. Or did before the long bookcase holding journal after journal beckoned him over.

It wouldn't hurt to just look. At one. Maybe two. Just to see what they were about. Merlin wasn't anywhere to be seen, and would be in bed for another five hours hopefully. Arthur wouldn't take that long.

His fingers were skimming the leather bounds, his mind still warring on whether this was a good idea or not. Choosing one from the middle he decided it wasn't that big of a violation and near ran over to the nearest lamp.

It was hard backed and breathtakingly beautiful. The pattern on the front looked like something someone would pay up to a good hundred quid for, the inside just as beautiful too as a sketch of someone took up the first page. The writing, thankfully, was in English. Old English, around 14-1700's, but still legible to someone used to overlooking modern spellings and turns of phrases.

The man was a captain, the author, Merlin, surprise surprise, was good friends with him. The first few pages were full of Merlin recounting their drunken exploits. They spent the night in a tavern in somewhere that had been crossed out, written over and crossed out again. Drinking had ended in the both of them being thrown out for rowdy behaviour, the two of them finding mischief at the harbour. One dare had turned to two, and before dawn they had stole a boat, holding the people on board hostage and set sail for France.

Arthur found the whole thing hilarious. It felt different to when Merlin was reading it, like he could feel more from looking at the words than hearing them. Merlin was a good narrator, both of them, but this guy, he was so Cavalier. He was dirty, some things Arthur had never seen before in even the most raunchiness of texts and plays. His way of approaching everything was a rebellion on the time, even in the way he spoke it was fun and carefree, without consequence. It was like he just didn't care what happened to him, and was living just to have fun. Something, which after studying the period for a semester, Arthur could understand. Seize the day had been rife for a good fifty years, starting with the civil war and carrying on through Cromwell's reign. Arthur couldn't pin point from the text so far when exactly this journal was set but he had a feeling it was somewhere within those timelines.

He got to the part where Merlin and his friend figured out how to steer the boat they had stolen before setting the book down. Well, more like slammed it shut. Things had went from fun to, well, dirty, again, in a matter of seconds. It wasn't until Arthur was reading a long paragraph quoting some of the poetics of Merlin and his friend's night together that his brain clicked online.

It wasn't like he found that kind of thing, wrong, on the contrary Arthur believed everyone should have the right to _do_ whoever they liked. He'd even indulged himself in some rather un-heterosexual thoughts over the years- more so than usual lately now he thought about it. So it wasn't that which had him putting the journal back.

More like, somewhere along the way Arthur had started to imagine the on page Merlin as the one sleeping a few floors away. Imagining that Merlin with someone else was not good for their friendship, or Arthur's feelings since he hated to admit there was a stab of jealousy mixed in with the slight arousal he was experiencing. That, and there was always that fear of getting caught whenever he was reading or watching something of a porny nature.

So he set the book back, and did what he should have done by retreating to the room Merlin had given him. If thoughts of Merlin in pirate garb followed him to his subconscious the rest of the night Merlin didn't need to know, and Arthur didn't need to acknowledge that since it was his mind making this up, his sleep deprived mind.

Breakfast was, as usual, amazing. Arthur did his best not to think about the journal he read last night. Especially when Arthur witnessed Merlin in his natural habitat. He had expected some kind of weird old man pyjama's to go with the whole theme of the house. Something silky and dark with a velvet robe to top it off. Merlin didn't have anything like that on. He didn't even look to have something from this century on. Instead, there was a white shirt, or would have been white had it not been for age and wear. It was open necked, showing a pale expanse of skin, the shirt just barely clung to Merlin's shoulders. The only thing keeping it from slipping altogether were the laces folding over Merlin's chest. It wasn't helping Arthur's pirate imaginings, and by the end of breakfast Arthur was trying to suggest things to do so he could get Merlin out of his shirt and into something decent.


	8. Chapter 8

_The tavern was dark, Merlin having acting odd all day wasn't making the uneasy feeling he got whenever they went to strange places like this ever easier. He was in the bed next, quiet, which should have told it all. There was something more going on, something more than him missing the people back home. He knew Merlin cared about them, about Gaius and Gwen, hell he cared too. But this wasn't the first time they had been away from Camelot when danger was back home, when it was possible to go back and more than one person they held close to their heart were no longer there. During those times Merlin had done his damndest to make sure Arthur kept his mind off such things, joking and laughing about the most inane things until he was more than focused on the task ahead, or trying to think about ways to unseat him from his horse._

_No, there was something else. But it could wait. He let Merlin talk about Gaius and Gwen to his hearts content. He let him worry about things like his bed and whether he would still have one un-scorched by the time they got home. He let him lie to his face because it was what Merlin needed. He knew, if it were important enough Arthur would know about it too, it was how they worked. He got the feeling sometimes Merlin held more than one secret from him, and it was something dark too, something he wouldn't like. But he knew that if it were vital for him to know then Merlin would have told him. He'd more than proven his loyalty to Arthur._

_A quick comment about all the laundry that might be gone by the time they got back had Arthur throwing a pillow at him, his wound twinging and pulling when he did. He tried to disguise the grimace, knowing the pain on his face would just make Merlin that much more withdrawn, so he made some excuse about the washing definitely going to be still there and told him to get some sleep._

He blinked awake, groaning at yet another dream invading his nightly routines. The sky was still dark, Merlin asleep beside him, but that didn't matter. What did was that dream felt like one of the more darker ones he had. The ones that usually only came to him when he was away from Merlin. He didn't like this grey uncertainty, but knew there was nothing he could do about it.

The pillow was waiting for him as he flopped back down. Sleep would be a long way off now, he knew this from experience, and it wasn't like he could go wandering. Merlin had this grand idea this time he came around. Well, Merlin thought it was a good idea, Arthur thought it was lunacy when he was told the idea.

Camping.

Not just any camping either. Merlin said people were soft these days, not knowing what it is to truly camp. They didn't know what it was like to feel the dirt under their backs when they went to sleep, to actually be happy when they flopped to their bedrolls after a hard days' trek. Merlin couldn't change the whole world's perception of camping, however, he could change Arthur's perception.

It didn't help that it was Valentines day. Valentines day, the one day of the year where Merlin couldn't behave like the rest of the population and have other plans. The 13th he phoned Arthur up asking if he wanted to come around, telling him to pack a bag and assuming automatically that Arthur probably wouldn't have someone to spend Valentines with. He didn't want to admit to himself that he probably would have cancelled his plans and spent the day with Merlin anyway. It was ominous at the time, and maybe a little romantically thrilling, which was made even more so when Merlin took him straight to the stables, telling him they were going on an adventure.

The romance was gone as soon as he mounted the house. Three hours, _three long hours_ , they rode on those things. By the time they stopped they had reached a stream, Merlin showing him how to get fresh water out of a definitely dirty water. When that had happened, Arthur dragged him on a walk, towing the horses behind them for another four hours until they got to some hill or another. By that time Arthur was so tired of walking he didn't really care what Merlin had to say. He didn't even wait until a blanket was over him before calling it a day and telling Merlin the next time he wanted an adventure he was going to have to find someone else. Or at least go an adventure that didn't require them walking until his feet were hurting.

Some time through the night Merlin must have shoved a pillow under his head and a blanket over him. A kind gesture that sort of made up for the long trek here. It was also very beautiful.

Merlin had chosen a spot where the trees made a sort of canopy, it was small only covering their heads really, and if it had been raining Arthur was sure he would have slapped Merlin awake and told him his whole adventure was horrible- again. But thankfully it wasn't, and instead Arthur had the clearest view of the stars he'd ever seen in his life. He knew Merlin could name every single one, and had probably deprived him an hour or so of showing off by falling asleep.

He was tempted to wake Merlin up just to hear him name a few. It would have been nice. But Merlin looked kind of peaceful beside him, a change from the dream Merlin that was all tense and worried. He couldn't wake him, the idiot.

So he tried to sleep the rest of the night, resulting in another dream where they were walking along a wood there too. Waking, he was more than grumpy to discover he was still stuck in green, green, green. God he hated camping.

Breakfast was okay at least, Merlin shoving a- somehow- heated pop tart at him and telling him to get his things. 'We're going east today.'

'You mean it's not over?' Arthur whined, stomping over to his horse. 'Why are we even doing this?'

'Because it's fun.' Merlin shoved another pop tart at him, probably to make him stop complaining.

'There's nothing fun about traipsing around the woods all day.'

Merlin laughed, he laughed so much it took him two tries to get on his horse. When asked what was so funny he just said, 'Nothing, I just remember saying something like that when I first started traipsing around the woods.'

Around two hours into their next ride Arthur realised that Merlin actually had a direction in place for them. He'd been told they would only gone for four days, so they must be getting there today. When today remained to be seen.

Merlin tried to give him tips on their ride, showing Arthur the best way to ride in the saddle and how to keep his horse happy so he wouldn't end up tossed off like he had been the day before. He handed pop tarts every now and then too, Arthur not having a clue how they were all warm when they reached his mouth. Seriously, it was like magic.

Around noon, and four pop tarts later, Merlin said they had to dismount for this next part of their journey. Again. He whined all the way through dismount, his thighs aching from the ride yesterday and his arse, well he hadn't felt that ten minutes into their ride.

'How much longer?' Arthur asked, his feet twinging from every step.

'Not long.' Merlin said, stopping to peer around. Arthur wasn't kidding that if Merlin had got them lost one of them wasn't coming out of these trees. 'This way. We should be there in a few minutes.'

'Where?'

Merlin smiled back at him, despite appearing happy his eyes haunted. Like wherever they were going was hard for him. 'You'll see.' Arthur was kind of worried.

The trees opened out a few minutes later, Arthur expecting some magical feat of nature. Instead he was faced with a faded grey wall.

'You've got to be kidding me,' Arthur groaned, sitting down before Merlin could hurry him inside. He needed a moment to try not to kill Merlin, because he wanted to. Right now he really wanted to.

Merlin had brought them to the castle, the one Arthur had mentioned the other week. The one that was a ten minute drive away from his apartment. They didn't need to go camping, or trek for one and a half days to get here. Arthur was murderous, but clearly the trek here had been important to Merlin so he needed time to compose himself before he did or said something that would mar this day.

'Okay,' He said, feeling confident Merlin would live the rest of the day. 'Let's go.'

The castle was beautiful close up, Merlin taking him in a servant entrance telling him to just leave the horses. Arthur was in actual awe when Merlin led him through a few corridors, stopping when they got to a small door. The room beyond was wrecked. It looked like some kind of mad scientists laboratory, medieval style. The beakers that lined the tables and shelves were smashed, the books ripped and some of them burnt. Merlin walked through all of it like it was home, setting things right here and there until he got to the small set of stairs at the back.

He was gone for only a moment, returning with a large tome he handed over to Arthur. 'I usually keep this here. People don't really come here because... well, maybe when you figure this out you'll understand.'

'So you brought me here to give me a book?' Not that he was complaining. The thing looked like something his sister would have used in her Halloween costume. It was leather-bound, and watercolour on the inside. Beautiful, and not to mention in another gibberish language. 'Is this another journal?'

Merlin shook his head, not really looking like he was all there. 'It's a- an important book. I'm sure you can figure it out. You're a history student after all.' He kept looking around like he could see this place how it was meant to be and refused to believe this new image. It was quite... Arthur didn't know what it was. Sad maybe. He couldn't decide.

'Why don't you show me the rest of the castle. I'm sure you know hundreds of stories about this place.'

It got Merlin sort of back to him, a sparkle gleaming back into his eye as he led Arthur back through the corridors and starting on his stories. He told the one about the hole in the courtyard, where a catapult had went astray. He told about the Saxon invasion and how they managed to get past the walls that should have stood around the castle.

'There used to be a moat. I think it dried up around the renaissance.'

He continued to tell stories until they got to the kings room. Here Merlin stopped his little tales in exchange for showing Arthur to what looked like some little Jacuzzi. There was already water in, and it was bubbling slightly, stream floating off. Boiling hot. But how?

A question for another day. Right now Merlin was telling him to hop in and Arthur had dirt, sweat and horse to wipe off himself. It was heaven, being clean had never felt so good. Merlin had wandered off somewhere, coming back now with a scrap of cloth with a dragon on.

'Here,' He handed it over, the dragon hiding a ring inside, another gift for him it seemed.

'What's this?' It was too small to get on most of his fingers, but trial and error had it sitting on one of them eventually, the silver gleaming in the midday sun. 'Honestly Merlin if you'd wanted to propose you could have gotten something a bit flashier.' There was nothing to it but a simple silver band, but, somehow, Arthur could see the beauty in its simplicity.

Merlin finally laughed, the first time since they had entered this place, and grabbed the hand Arthur had put the ring on. 'It's not a wedding ring. But it is important. It belonged to a friend of mine. He- well I think he would like it if I gave it to you. It's not really my kind of style.'

If Merlin even had a style. Arthur was touched all the same, so much so that he had the man by the neck and was kissing him before his wits returned.

Merlin was dazed, touching his lips when Arthur pulled back. 'What did you do that for?'

'Because you're a walking cliché,' Arthur quipped, before realising he had probably just read the situation entirely wrong. He pulled his arms back, sitting as far away from Merlin as he could in the small bathtub. 'I am so sorry. I thought- I mean, it's Valentines day-'

'It is?' He gave Merlin credit, he really did look confused.

'-And I don't know you just. Look, I'm sorry. It was a lapse in judgment and it won't happen again so can we just, do the manly thing and pretend it never happened?'

'I don't-' Merlin started before touching his lips again. 'Give me a moment,' and he meant a moment, leaving Arthur, once again in the tub as he wandered off.

He didn't want to sit there, and quickly dried off with his old shirt. He had probably just ruined their friendship. There was no way Merlin would want him around now. Arthur would never hear what happened at the end of that journal and- who was he kidding. It hadn't been about them for a while now. Merlin was, interesting, funny, he was just Merlin and Arthur had messed up that status quo with doing something he had braced himself not to do before coming in here.

He shoved his underwear on, wondering bleakly if he could get away with taking a nap when his hand was taken, turning until it was entwined with Merlin, the man not giving Arthur a moment to apologise again as he kissed him.

It wasn't anything like before, Merlin wasn't just sitting there shocked. No, he was desperate, firm and extremely good at kissing. Arthur could barely keep up, he'd never really been the one in this position before. Usually when he kissed someone it was after a good few days of brief pecks, both of them just easing into it. Of course Merlin wasn't going to be like them, and he was quite glad of it too.


	9. Chapter 9

They had moved to the bed, Arthur quite enjoying where this day had ended up. The same couldn't be said for Merlin. His little bit of thinking before turned out not to be enough. When Arthur was just getting into the swing of things, maybe trying to climb Merlin's long limbs a little bit, he would suddenly find himself not being kissed and Merlin blinking like he'd just been given a complicated maths problem he wasn't solving anytime soon. It happened four more times before Arthur gave up, flopping back onto the dusty pillows and letting Merlin have his inner crisis.

He contented himself another way, finally letting himself properly appreciate Merlin. Before, he'd always felt like some sort of creep, or definitely overstepping his friend boundaries, if he looked at Merlin in a certain light. But, now Merlin wasn't openly telling him to get lost, he allowed himself to indulge in parts of Merlin he'd avoided appreciating before.

Like his hands, clenched tight in the bedding, but even covered slightly Arthur knew they were long and slim. He'd caught himself many times through their riding adventures just wondering about those hands. What they would feel like around his, whether they would be calloused from all that swordplay, which had Arthur thinking about a completely different sword he'd like Merlin to wrap his hands around.

That urge to just pin Merlin down was sitting beneath the surface again, and he was really going to have to get to the bottom of that soon, as there was no change yet in Merlin's crisis. Arthur moved on to his hair, something he now had at least some knowledge of before he was cast aside in favour of panicking. It was softer than he thought it would be, sticking up slightly where Arthur had ran his hands through it. He wondered if Merlin always had his hair parted like that. It was still slightly old fashioned, much like the rest of him, but Arthur knew, somehow, that he would look handsome, no, right, with some kind of fringe hanging near his eyes. Maybe he could get Merlin to indulge him one of these days. Get a neckerchief on him too...

The image came like a ghost in the room, Arthur no longer seeing Merlin with his hoodie and jeans sitting on the corner of the bed, but instead something else. It was still Merlin, definitely Merlin with his dark hair and happy eyes. But he was the one from Arthur's dreams, the one that usually disappeared as soon as Arthur opened his eyes, never to be remembered until the next night. His hair was how Arthur had thought, the neckerchief was there too. His shirt had been replaced with some kind of tunic, hanging off him at the front and highlighting quite a strong back from Arthur's viewpoint.

It was gone in a flash, other Merlin replacing it, but the vision was enough to have Arthur sitting up, remembering other things from his dream.

This bed, this bed was familiar. Only, there had been furs on it, the sheets were different too. These were soft under his hands, the ones he remembered were coarse, near itchy on his skin, there had been no other things to make sheets out of. These ones were new, but still old. Things had been changed, moved, broken and missing from the picture in his mind. There had been books on that case, not the books he was used to but bound and covered in animal skins that used to roam the forests around here. Maps used to cover that desk, the terrain of... of... why couldn't he remember where they covered? It was there, itching at the back of his mind.

That lantern was new, before that there had been a candle, the holder, no matter what he did always dripped wax everywhere. There used to be a trunk at the end of this bed, full to the brim with cloaks and chainmail, daggers and knives that he had long grown out of their use for. A present from- someone- a woman, used to rest on that sill. It was the last thing she gave to him, the thought coming like another voice speaking into his mind. The last present before she had betrayed him. Broke his heart.

This castle, it felt like his home, but the voice in his mind said it was also his cage. A place where love couldn't last and loyalty was only skin deep. He'd been happy here, but he'd also been heartbroken. Again and again and again he'd been heartbroken, and the tumult of pain that sliced through him had him clenching at his own knees, the nails biting his skin and reminding him he didn't know that. He'd never felt that, it wasn't real.

'What is this place?' Arthur asked, embarrassed to note his cheeks were wet. He wiped them hastily, Merlin watching him carefully, all traces of inner panic gone. 'I've been here before. But, I haven't. Merlin?'

'What makes you say that?' Merlin leaned carefully back next to him, looking around the room as if he was trying to see what Arthur had. 'Tell me.'

'This place,' he didn't know. He'd never been here. 'My dreams. I think I've seen it in my dreams. But I can't have. You can't dream of something you haven't seen, and definitely not like this. It's like a vision. Merlin?'

'Tell me,' Merlin insisted. He took Arthur's hands, those long finger doing nothing to help distract him from his mind. Past him would have been weeping. 'Tell me what you see Arthur.'

He tried to think back to it, to the details of everything he'd seen, but it was like a wisp of smoke, getting thinner and thinner the longer Arthur tried to keep it in the open. 'I don't see anything. I can't remember. What's going on? What is this place?'

'Arthur?' His vision blurred again, Merlin's face swimming slightly as he stopped trying to block the rest of the room. He scrubbed at his cheeks again, distraught to think the day had went from confusing to amazing to this. 'What's wrong? What are you seeing?'

'Nothing,' he said, even as the ghosts eluded him again. He had nothing there to tell Merlin, nothing left in his head to even begin to try and it was beyond frustrating. 'I just- it's so sad here.' It was, the heartbreak coming back with a vengeance- he was sad, about this place, about Merlin sitting in front of him. He never got to tell him how sorry he was.. 'I don't remember anything else. There's nothing to see. I don't think I like it here.' He hated how much of a child he sounded. If he were back home he'd get a slap for how he was acting. A man always had to be strong, crying was something they held back for their private times.

'Then we'll leave,' Merlin said, sighing before hauling Arthur up and away like a monster was at their heels. Arthur ended up sitting outside as Merlin went back for the bags.

They ended up sitting in the courtyard, Arthur trying to get a hold of himself after his display back there, yet it seemed even the courtyard held some sorrow for him, a sense of longing and grief still lingering at the edges despite Arthur thinking of anything and everything but what was in front of him. Merlin was still watching him, silent, which was just wrong that voice spoke, and waiting for some sign or another from Arthur.

'Merlin, what is this place?'

'A castle,' was the cheeky response, the grin following not long after Arthur huffed out some semblance of a laugh. 'It's probably one of the oldest castles in England. It is actually. It was built before the Norman invasion. Way before the Saxons as well, and before you even argue that's not chronologically possible there are some periods in history that even the wisest people on this planet could not explain or begin to guess at. This is one of those things.'

'It must have been beautiful,' even as he said it he knew it had been. The picture flashed briefly before his eyes, like he was standing on a hilltop, breathing in the castle from afar. Some part of him knew he'd done that often, the picture too vivid and detailed to have been seen otherwise.

'Like something out of a fairy tale. It all was. Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses, Damsels in distress. The whole lot.'

'What happened to it?'

Merlin sighed, hunching in on himself. 'It's complicated.'

It should be strange, he thought, that Merlin should know so much and be so sure of what he said. It should be strange Arthur believed him without a question of doubt. Yet he did, and somehow he knew that even if Merlin were lying to him he'd know that somehow, that he would be able to pick between the lies.

'I could listen to complicated.'

Merlin looked at him, not like he usually did with his happy eyes and guileless smile. This was more like he did before teaching Arthur a new trick with a sword, like he was testing Arthur, looking for something in him and trying to see which way he would turn or twist if Merlin did something. Whatever it was Merlin was looking for he didn't find it, the smile coming back in seconds and Merlin asking if he wanted to just go home.

He did. If only so he could stop feeling so sad. The ride back was mostly in silence. Well, Arthur was silent, cursing himself for how he acted and wondering if Merlin was going to hold it against him as the hours dwindled by. Merlin on the other hand, was pretending the castle had never happened. He was rambling about everything from horses to the Lord of the Rings trilogy he'd never actually seen but thought they looked good.

Sometimes Arthur wondered, as his heart got lighter, if Merlin even needed Arthur there at all. He bet Merlin spent hours just hours talking to himself in that house of his, filling up the silence with stories he liked to remind himself of or things needing doing. It was an uncomfortable thought, made so by the fact Arthur filled in the last of that sentence with Merlin wouldn't need to do that anymore. He'd known the man for a matter of months and was already planning on hanging around long enough to get Merlin to keep his chatter stored up for when Arthur came over.

They must have chosen the fast route back since they got to Arthur's flat before nightfall, meaning no second night in the forest. With Merlin promising he could see both horses back to his house on his own, Arthur grabbed his things and said his goodbyes to his horse- he was starting to grow fond of the thing.

'Maybe next time we'll stick to reading in my library,' Merlin said, the hesitant chuckle showing the first signs of nervousness Arthur had seen since starting back.

It brought him back to the thoughts before he broke down. More pleasant ones, and had him amending Merlin's plans. 'Maybe we could do something else instead. Like Lord of the Rings at mine? I'm sure Leon has the trilogy around somewhere in his pit.'

'Yeah?'

He stepped over, mindful of Merlin's horse still sitting between his legs. 'Yeah. We could make it a date. If you're interested?'

Merlin huffed, looking Arthur over again, 'You really like me?'

'I'm not messing around with you,' Arthur promised.

A hesitant beam spread over Merlin's face, 'Then Lord of the Rings sounds great.'

'Great.'

Merlin rode off, Arthur breathing a sigh of relief that he'd got that out of the way. Picking up his bag, he wasn't surprised that his life wouldn't be so easy that his embarrassment would be kept between him and Merlin. No, as soon as he was through the door Leon and Elyan, who had been lurking somewhere with a window, popped out and started grilling Arthur about his romantic horseback trip.

'Have to admit,' Elyan said, 'Merlin has class. If that had been a girl going with him he'd definitely be getting some.'

'Who said he didn't?' Leon chuckled. 'Arthur's just as romantic as any woman. Morgana told me a lovely story about your last girlfriend.'

'Merlin didn't get any, and if he did why is that not my achievement as well? Also, stop talking to my sister Leon,' Arthur warned holing himself up in his room for the rest of the evening.

Apart from making sure the people around him kept away from his conniving sister, Arthur spent the better half of his night trying not to fall asleep. He was happy, sure, he had a date with Merlin to look forward to. But he was also still reeling off what happened at the castle. About what happened every time he closed his eyes. It was scaring him, really, truly scaring him and he didn't know what to do to stop it. He wondered if this was what people felt when they were going insane, whether he was going insane as a result. It made him ill to think of, and resulting in him day dreaming through most of his day when the sun came up.


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur was nervous, not that he would admit it. The last date he'd been on had been when he was sixteen with a girl from his class. Even then, the only reason he'd agreed to the date was because his father and hers were friends. It was surprisingly easy to get through the date then, the pair of them forced to make conversation but finding, after a while they had more in common than they thought. Elena was one of those girls who, when he thought back to his dreary childhood, he would be glad to remember. Despite the date not ending in the pair of them together, they had remained friends until they went their respective ways to university.

But, it was one thing to go on a date with someone he had no interest in and someone he had more than a bit of interest in. Merlin was easy to talk to, sure, they got on even, but that was before the whole pressure of a date came over them. Questions upon questions had Arthur up most nights, which was actually a good thing since he was trying not to sleep these days. Would Merlin want to watch all three movies in one go? What if he got sick after the first one and he didn't have a back up plan for them to do? What if Merlin completely copped out on him altogether and cancelled the date? What the hell did one wear to a movie night in their own flat with someone they liked?

Leon got a right laugh out of it. He even started inviting Elyan around when the mirth didn't extend too well over the phone. More often than not Arthur ended up full out yelling at the pair of them, ordering them around the flat while he tidied up, or told them to shut up when their teasing wasn't helping his nerves.

He may have been a little too harsh on Leon. But then, he supposed he more than made up for it when his micromanaging wound up with him cleaning the pit Leon called a room. He'd only went in there for the DVD, which led to Arthur's brain making up reasons why Merlin might want to go into Leon's room and the state it was in.

He also made it up to his friend in another way, which was also another reason Elyan found himself at their flat more and more these days. For a movie Arthur knew popcorn was on the table. But it was a date, so they would probably need something to eat at some point, and Arthur sure as hell wasn't going to coin out for a takeaway this time. He had to show he was good at something, and since there was no way he was going to let Merlin take over his kitchen again on this occasion he spent his time after his lectures looking up and cooking dish after dish.

'At least we know something you can fall back on if history doesn't work out,' Elyan chimed between bites. 'This is good.'

Leon snorted, wiping away the last of his shepherds pie from his chin, 'Yeah, this one is. You should have tasted the one he made two nights ago. I was sick for two hours.'

'Yet you still finished the plate,' Arthur pointed out, shovelling another dish in front of their noses. 'Tell me what you think.'

Leon ended up quarantining him when it got too much. One moment Arthur was rearing up for another rant on why clothes now had to go in the washing basket, and the next he was in his room facing a locked door with Leon on the other side telling him to get some sleep.

'You look like hell and Merlin doesn't want to date a zombie.'

Arthur came up with three curses in retaliation for that, eventually relenting when he figured Leon got the idea. He couldn't blame his friend. If he was in Leon's shoes he would have probably given up long before now, even with food as a bribe. That didn't mean he was entirely happy about it. Especially since his laptop and TV had been confiscated. Leon wanted him to go to sleep and Arthur was beginning to question why that was a bad idea.

He hadn't slept in so long. His eyes stung from being open, his mind sluggish and bordering on hallucinating- this morning he swore he saw a dragon dancing on his windowsill. The only thing that stopped him again and again was that lingering sense of sadness that lurked every time he kept his eyes closed for longer than a few seconds. It was so bad he almost found himself crying in the middle of a lecture, his eyes having closed only for a few minutes before he was jerking back up and trying to stop his eyes from leaking.

He hated it, but he was starting to hate being tired more.

It was eventually his fathers own words that got him in to bed. When he was a child he remembered thinking there was something lurking in his wardrobe, not made at all better by Morgana telling him she'd seen something creeping around the house in her nightmares. He'd refused to go to bed until every crevice of his room had been searched and the wardrobe lit up with a torch to make sure there was nothing there. Of course, when his father learnt about this routine he'd put a stop to it right away. Arthur was growing up, and growing up meant facing whatever monster was lurking in that wardrobe.

'If it gets you it gets you Arthur,' he'd said, telling him that fate wasn't something he could stop or prepare for, no matter how hard he tried.

Arthur had not been well pleased to sleep that night with no routine to soothe him. But, as morning came he was starting to see how foolish it was to be afraid of something he'd never even seen. Now, a grown man, he could see the value of those words again. Arthur couldn't stop himself from sleeping if he tried. He could keep awake for as long as he liked, but sooner or later it was going to happen, and whatever was lurking behind his eyelids was going to show itself. He can't escape it, so the only other choice was to buck up and face it.

_He was wounded, his chest stinging with a phantom pain Arthur could only begin to feel. The other him was propped up with great care, his weight mostly on the pillar behind him and the man helping to hold him up. He couldn't see him, but some distant part of him whispered that it was Merlin. He couldn't really see or hear anything beyond the pain, and not just the physical one. His heart was broken. When he was a child he'd heard of men and women who said their hearts had been broken and had laughed at them. Scoffed that it was just a figure of speech, that nothing could really break a heart._

_He wished he was that naïve again._

_It was like a weight, pulling him down and threatening to overtake him. First Gwen, just seeing the years they could have had together gone in that moment where she had betrayed him. She'd never really wanted him, he'd fooled himself that those lingering looks and quiet talks were just echoes of what they had once felt. A stupid thought for a stupid love-struck man. Gwen and Lancelot had always been destined for each other. They could have been happy. Lancelot never had to give up anything for her, he had nothing left to give but himself, and for Gwen that was all she wanted. Arthur, he'd came with power, with responsibility and the knowledge that even if Arthur had fooled himself into believing her his equal, she never would be. Not to others. It had been a fools hope that love would make her stay._

_But what love was left when betrayal showed the truth. She was gone, had been gone for a while, and despite what Merlin had said it wasn't that easy just to bring her back. He wished he still had that hope Merlin did about the world. The simplicity of it. If he had maybe he would have welcomed Gwen back after what she did. Maybe he wouldn't have been so shattered as he was now if he had that ability to just forgive Gwen for something she couldn't help._

_His breath came in short bursts, each one battling through his cracked ribs and his heavy heart. If he couldn't hear it beating in his ears he honestly thought it didn't exist anymore. He'd given it away to so many people. His father, gone. Morgana, Agravaine, the last two people he could call family in this world, he'd given them everything, he'd put his faith in them and trusted them even when they lied to his face and they turned on him like this._

_'Arthur.'_

_His sight came back, Merlin's troubled brow coming into focus. Merlin. He breathed again, more easily when he stopped thinking about what he'd seen in his courtyard. Just focus on Merlin. He had responsibilities. People to protect. People who were being slaughtered because he was standing here doing nothing._

_'We have to help the people,' Arthur said, focusing on one thing at a time. 'Get the knights.'_

_'Arthur?' Even when they were facing certain death Merlin had time to worry. It made Arthur smile, the familiarity of Merlin helping him regain composure. He didn't deserve Merlin, not that he'd tell him. He was probably the only person that Arthur could trust. Some part of him wondered, the dark, traitorous part of him that wanted to wallow while the hurt was so new, when Merlin would turn on him._

_'I'm fine. It's the people we have to think about.'_

_Which they did. Arthur's dream went dark for a while, letting him rest through the hours of night. Yet just before dawn another one came to him. It was almost like an apology for the one before, Arthur standing not in that cursed castle where so many people he'd loved had been lost. This one he was standing in a forest, the girl from so many dreams ago appearing with a basket._

_They had a picnic. It was nice, and reminded Arthur a bit about that picnic Merlin had taken him on their first riding lesson. They even had the treats he liked. The ones he couldn't pronounce, but this Arthur had no trouble doing so. The sweets were faint on his tongue, mere memories of taste and texture that still had the ability to make him happy._

_'Where would you go?' the girl asked, the two of them talking about what Arthur would do without his castle. It was still strange to think of that castle as his, even if his dream self was some important courtier._

_'Don't know. A village somewhere, maybe get a farm. Of course I'd take Merlin with me,' they shared a laugh, the girl thinking him joking but Arthur, both Arthur's knowing that they would be lost if they didn't have Merlin with them. If he did ever run away from life at the castle his imaginings always had Merlin in them. More often than not it would be Merlin telling him off for doing something off, their roles reversing, and Arthur being the one in the dark. But they would be happy, content, and fulfilled as people who lived off the land and had little else to worry about than simply feeding themselves._

_'Sounds nice.'_

_'I wouldn't last a day,' Arthur said, taking delight in the fact she didn't laugh at him for wishing something so trivial like a farm to himself._

_Strange, dream Arthur thought looking at the girl in front of him, that most of those imaginings never had Gwen in them. If he were to run away he would be in a better position to marry Gwen than anywhere else. Yet, she had never passed his mind before now._

_He supposed that he had never really thought about his future with Gwen. He wasn't as sure of her presence in his life in his future as he was with Merlin's._

The merriment of the picnic left him in a happy glow, waking with a sense of contentment he hadn't felt for a while now. He knew the dreams weren't always bad, and was happy to know that his mind had been kind to him this time.

He considered getting some kind of dream journal as the last images of a dense forest left his mind. If he did, he could tell Merlin in more detail about them. He had a feeling Merlin knew more than he let on about them, and maybe, if Arthur could give him more to go on, Merlin might start trusting him with some answers.

It would also help him the rest of his waking day when he struggled with what it was he'd dreamt. If he could jot it down and look back, screw Merlin giving him some answers, he could probably make something out of them himself. Somehow he knew they were trying to tell him something. They held answers, and all of them connected somehow, but until he remembered more than a face or feeling he was doomed to rely on his hunch to get him through another day.

'You look better,' Leon greeted him, setting breakfast in front of Arthur as a sort of apology for locking him away last night. 'More like an extra in a Tim Burton movie than Dawn of the Dead.'

'I don't know which to be more offended by,' Arthur said, scoffing his breakfast before it was taken from him. 'And you'll keep that lip to yourself tonight or I really will chuck you out.'

Leon held his hands up, 'I know, don't worry. Elyan and me are looking up football strategies. I think he's invited one of his friends as well. We're going to be in my room, quiet as a mouse, so you can keep your screams for when Merlin comes around.'

Arthur lamented the loss of his bacon sandwich as soon as it left his hand, retreating to his room before Leon could do something worse- like threaten to ruin his date.

He had the room set, the movies found and popcorn made by the time his bell rang and Merlin came in. Arthur was glad to note that he hadn't made a fool of himself by dressing down as Merlin was wearing nothing more fancier than what he usually did.

'I brought cupcakes,' Merlin said, feeding Arthur one before slipping the rest into Leon's room. From the sounds within it seemed Merlin was once again the best guest they'd ever had. 'Thought it would make sure they didn't ruin the movie. God knows what you've been doing to Leon since I've been gone.'

'Rude,' Arthur said, the _but true_ hanging between them.

If Arthur had any romantic thoughts about this date night they were soon quelled by the beginning of the Fellowship. Not only did Merlin like the movie, but he had Arthur sit a whole seat away and sent him dirty looks whenever he thought Arthur would speak. He may as well have not been there, but couldn't really complain, it was entertaining watching Merlin on its own. The way he scoffed at the Fellbeasts, the costumes and even the weapons, the only reason Arthur didn't suggest another movie entirely due to Merlin sighing about it being fantasy and not reality and accepting what he was seeing.

It was well into the early hours of the morning when Arthur gave in and had another power nap, waking with more than a certainty he was buying a dream journal. Merlin was still watching the films, the last hour of Return of the King playing, only he wasn't sitting where he had been. Instead, Arthur found himself more or less in Merlin's lap.

'Elyan's went home,' Merlin said, the first thing he had since the movies began. 'Leon said his other friend's staying, and to tell you to be nice if you saw him in the morning.'

'Just what kind of man does everyone think I am?'

'A nice one,' Merlin reassured. 'Who's also rude, insensitive and a massive dollophead. Leon's words.'

Arthur could read the lies, flicking Merlin on the nose. 'Dollophead's your word, not Leon's.'

Merlin narrowed his eyes, 'I've never called you that.'

'Mmm, yes you have.'

A considering look came on to Merlin's face, 'No, I haven't.'

Arthur thought back, trying to come up with one other scenario where Merlin had used that word. He had, Arthur was sure of it. He could hear it plain as day. Merlin had called him it many times. Yet, the more Arthur thought, the more he realised that Merlin hadn't called him that in that scenario. Nor that. Not even that one.

'I guess you haven't. Sorry.'

'Admitting your wrong and an apology, this is quiet a good first date.'

He tried for coy, figuring if Merlin was trying to lighten the mood he may as well get everything he could out of it. 'It could be better.'

Merlin chuckled. 'As good as that sounds, I really want to know how this ends,' and proceeded to ignore him in favour of the TV.

Knowing he wasn't going to win against Frodo, Arthur tried to get another half hour, his eyes falling shut easily as the rest of him marvelled at the thought he was still on Merlin's lap.


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur woke up snug, despite hanging off the edge of his sofa. Two long arms were making sure he didn't fall, the body behind him warm despite how skinny he knew Merlin was. He stretched out slightly, feeling Merlin's hoodie rub against his skin where his shirt ran up. Merlin was still asleep, his breaths soft on the back of Arthur's neck and despite the strength they showed keeping Arthur from the floor, they were slack and easily moved when Arthur tried.

He knew he was going to have to get up soon. Not only had he been woken by Leon's door closing rather than his mind deciding it had enough sleep, but he could hear more than one person peeking in to the living room from the kitchen, and more than one of them suggesting photographs for blackmail later.

He grabbed a few more minutes in his warm cocoon before the sound of a phone being pulled out actually got him moving. He glared at Leon, lingering in the doorway with his camera out and already three pictures snapped. The phone would be heavily guarded, he knew, which meant he would have to be sneaky to get it back. For now however, he was content with dirty looks, threats and getting his friend to make him breakfast.

Leon's other friend was already eating half their cupboards, the plate of shepherds pie that Arthur had thought they would eat last night, was also an unfortunate victim in this new man's quest to sat his hunger. Leon managed to swipe some bread for toast, battling his friend over the toaster so Arthur really wouldn't kill him that morning.

Arthur noted the way they interacted. It was familiar, in more than one way. Something told him Leon had either met this guy a few months ago or was surprisingly friendly towards him. Arthur thought the former since he'd seen Leon make friends, even been in those early stages himself, and knew Leon was anything but easy around people until their trial period had ended. It was why it was so surprising that Elyan had just appeared in their lives and fit there like a missing puzzle piece. That, and the fact Arthur swore he'd seen Elyan in his dreams. This man gave that same feeling again, Arthur trying to place him in the distant images and scattered feelings that made up his subconscious.

He got an odd feeling about him. Gratitude was in there. Unwavering gratitude, and a sense of loyalty. It was mixed in with playful annoyance and a hint of jealousy. The jealousy he played off as recognition that this man was handsome. He'd never felt threatened before in terms of being measured to another man. But then, he'd never encountered someone that could charm Leon into giving him half of Arthur's scavenged breakfast.

'Thanks,' Arthur muttered, fingering the burnt toast with little butter.

'This is Gwaine,' Leon introduced.

'Another footie mate?'

Gwaine laughed, 'Think we're past mate now, don't you Leon?' Gwaine got shoved into the bench for that. 'We were on opposite teams, you know how it goes. Two people go for the ball at the same time, a little rain, a lot of mud and the next thing you know we're practically making love on the pitch.'

'That's a lie,' Leon defended, Arthur not so sure due to the amount of red replacing Leon's pale skin. 'And anyway, Elyan knows him. Apparently they're old school chums.'

'Yep. So if you ever want the before pictures, you know where to come. I tell you, his sister had the easier time through puberty than he did. If you ask me I think she cast some kind of spell and let Elyan suffer through twice as much. The spots on that kid...'

They shared a laugh, Gwaine promising proof next time he came around. Arthur hoped Leon had the forethought to feed his new friend beforehand. If this really was to continue he feared for his bank account.

He left Leon and Gwaine to it when he couldn't find anything else edible. Showering and running out, he was back just in time to hand Merlin a nice breakfast muffin and ward Gwaine off from the rest of his baked goods.

Merlin was probably in the best mood he'd ever seen him that morning. He spent at least five minutes in worrying silence, his muffin hanging limply in his hands as Gwaine battled Arthur for a doughnut. Arthur had started to worry there was something wrong when Merlin let out a blinding grin, snatched the doughnut himself and said it was payment for having to put up with Arthur on his knee all night.

'You offered,' Arthur argued.

Merlin was enamoured. That was the only word for it, and Arthur felt that background jealousy when he first met Gwaine return twofold and matched with his own. He'd never seen Merlin smile as much as he did when Gwaine was around. He laughed at all of his jokes, even when they weren't funny, and somehow transformed from this mysterious man into an almost ordinary university student. Not only did he match Gwaine for his dirty stories, and Arthur was quite shocked at some of them, but he invited Gwaine around to his for a drinking match the following evening.

'I have this wine. Well, it's not exactly wine,' Merlin said, 'But it's stronger than Russian vodka and has almost anyone drunk in under three sips.'

Gwaine nodded, a challenge sitting just behind his eyes, 'I'm starting to like you Merlin.'

Around the time Merlin was trying to make more plans Arthur got him out of the flat. The two of them wandered around for a while, Merlin knowing the moment Arthur suggested making the most of the day that he was just trying to get him away from Gwaine, and teasing him every chance he got that Arthur's jealousy was showing.

'It's not jealousy,' Arthur protested, despite him knowing it was. Arthur was happy to say he didn't like jealousy, and was glad when it left. It reminded him too much of being back at home and constantly trying to fight for his father's attention with Morgana. 'It's just I thought we could spend some time together. Some not in front of the TV and completely ignoring me time.'

'That was your idea,' Merlin laughed.

'Yes, but... let's just do something,' he huffed, glad when Merlin finally took over and started carting them towards his house.

Merlin didn't let the matter of Gwaine go all the way through their walk up to the house. Really, Arthur didn't see what was so great about a man Merlin had just met. But then...

'I think I've met him before.' The good mood between them vanished, Merlin's smirk fading into almost eager wide eyes. 'In my dreams, maybe. I wish they were how they used to be.' He'd remembered before that when the dreams had first started he could remember more than just fleeting feelings. There were images, and even scenes he could tell Merlin about. But those too, like the dreams these days, seemed to have faded until there was nothing but impressions left behind. He knew he had seen Gwaine before, just like he knew he'd seen Elyan. But the fire in his dreams was hard to bring up, Elyan's face lit by the glow fading dark no matter how much Arthur rationalised light didn't do that. 'But I got that sense, like at the castle. Gwaine's from my dreams.'

'Anything else? Like what he was wearing in them or saying?'

Arthur shook his head, marvelling that, once again, Merlin wasn't calling him crazy where others would. 'Just an impression. I think I liked him. It's hard to tell.'

That had Merlin laughing, the good mood back as Arthur explained the warring jealousy and affection that he got from seeing Gwaine. Merlin joked that Arthur was just trying to think up excuses now, just as they got to Merlin's library.

'I felt like that before you woke up.'

Merlin beamed much like he did at Gwaine then, Arthur feeling like he'd just stepped inside some trap. 'And here I thought it was the idea of there being another devilishly handsome man competing for Leon. Are you telling me it's my opinion that had you running out?'

He didn't answer, the silence speaking for him as he curled himself up in one of Merlin's chairs. Merlin handed him one of the more familiar books in his library, a nice hardback of Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ , telling him to make himself comfortable while he went for a shower.

He got halfway through before Merlin tossed the book aside for him, a habit he was definitely going to break, and cajoled him into doing something much more fun. That being a run around the fields outside the manor. If there was one thing that Merlin knew could cheer him up it was exercise or history. The two of them combined and with no horses to speak of Arthur spent the afternoon in a great mood.

It was like a history exam, Merlin asking him which games he had learnt about in his lectures, before actually asking for a demonstration. More often than not, Merlin told him he'd got the rules wrong and corrected him. He didn't know if half the time it was because Arthur was winning, but in any case the outdoors and complete lack of care Merlin had for looking like a fool was making Arthur more giddy by the games end. It also helped that in some cases the games were physical, Arthur ending up on top of or under Merlin as they grappled around.

He got that familiar feeling again when he had Merlin in a hold. His arms above his head, Arthur keeping him still and the pair of them shouting abuse at each other. He sometimes wished those feelings would leave him alone. This time was no different, if only because it came on so suddenly. It was just another impression, one that had him loosening his hold long enough for Merlin to slip free and pin Arthur under him. But by the time Merlin herded him inside, covered in mud, he got the sense that they did that a lot. Whoever they were and whatever his subconscious was trying to tell him that was. But the dream him often found himself messing around with Merlin.

'You okay?' Merlin asked, towing him towards the sleeping quarters. 'You've gone all quiet on me?'

'If any of us should be worried when the other's quiet it should be me Merlin, you never shut up.' A nudge told him he wasn't fooling anyone, Arthur sighing as Merlin started stripping out of his shirt. 'Just another funny feeling. I'm getting quiet sick of them.' It was a testament to how sick he was of them since he didn't even try to ogle Merlin.

'I bet.' A clean pair of clothes were thrown Arthur's way, the football shirt he'd previously slept in among the pile. 'You have a lecture tomorrow?'

He hesitated when saying, 'No,' something in Merlin's question sending a wave of apprehension through him. Did Merlin want him to stay over again? It would be different this time if he did. Well, he hoped it would be different. 'I'm free until exams. Which aren't for another week.'

Nothing more was said or implied. Merlin went to take a shower, a pointed look at Arthur's mud stained hands had him doing the same, the two of them meeting back up in Merlin's kitchen. Arthur, if he was honest, was quite glad for the offer to stay, as implied as it was. His own home was cleaned out, and Merlin was a good host. As long as he was there, Arthur would get fed.

They ended up back in the library after they'd eaten, Merlin going to look at something or other and leaving Arthur to pick up the battered copy of Shakespeare he'd been given before. Just like before it didn't stay in his hands long. Merlin had it tossed somewhere behind them again as soon as he sat down, only this time, instead of leading him out for a run in the fields, he handed him a book.

Not just any book, the cover itself sending a thrill through Arthur. It had been a while since he'd read more about Merlin's journey's in Saxon England, these days Arthur finding the current Merlin more interesting. Yet, his curiosity was piqued as Merlin made himself comfortable next to him.

'I think it's time for you to have it,' Merlin said, waving it off when Arthur tried to hand it over. 'I think you might be able to read it.'

He sent Merlin a scathing look, knowing before he even opened to the first page that Merlin was talking nonsense. The writing was gibberish, as all books not bound in leather on Merlin's bookcase was. The cover was some kind of animal skin, what, Arthur didn't know, the scales being smooth and unfamiliar. He thought they might be alligator, but that kind of skin would have bigger scales. These were compact, almost nearing to an underbelly, the colours still bright despite its age. The inside was a mixture of sheepskin and almost normal paper, something that shouldn't have existed at that age.

'What's this one about then?' He tried reading the first page. It wasn't Old English, or even Viking. It looked slightly like the coded writing Merlin's journal, but only slight words. It came to him as he saw Merlin's name written in careful precision, that this might be the language the other Merlin was coding. The original dialect.

Merlin offered no insight, merely saying, 'You'll find out,' and for the first time since they met he treated a book with a sort of care, stroking the fine scales with an unreadable gentleness. 'I think, when you do, things will be clearer.'

'You're annoyingly vague,' Arthur accused, setting the book to the side since Merlin wasn't going to read it to him.

'It's just part of my charm.'

Arthur hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing as he looked to other means of entertainment for the evening. Merlin was hesitant again when Arthur kissed him, soon melting into it when he realised Arthur wasn't going to spontaneously push him away.

Between the two of them they managed to do away with their shirts at some point, Arthur enjoying the smooth muscle under his fingers and surprising firmness that made up Merlin's arms. Definitely stronger than he looked. Arthur enjoyed those arms twining around his neck, moving out of the way as Arthur moved his own to more interesting places.

He thought this really was the reason Merlin asked him to stay, the two of them bumping heads and laughing between kisses before Arthur got too greedy. He slid his hand down Merlin's back, the skin moving as Merlin pressed closer, before stopping completely as Arthur dipped a finger beneath Merlin's trousers. He was holding nothing seconds later, Merlin pulling back and looking for his shirt.

'I'm sorry,' Arthur offered, knowing in his head it was probably too soon for them to be thinking about that step. 'I should have asked.'

His own shirt was flung his way, Merlin coming to sit beside him again like nothing happened. 'No, it's fine. I wanted it.' That surprised him, Arthur trying to think of another reason why they were stopping altogether if they both wanted it. Merlin seemed to read that on his face, nodding to the shirt in Arthur's hands before explaining, 'I just think we should wait. For a while anyway. You might hate me if we didn't.'

'Bad in bed?' Arthur ventured, making sure he sounded nothing but teasing as he did so. He remembered Leon telling him of one bad experience he'd had when he made the same joke, not only did the girl break up with him but she ended up giving him a black eye when she threw his shoe at him.

Merlin laughed, like the very idea was stupid to even think of. 'No, if anything I've been told I'm quite... adventurous. But this thing between us, I just think we should wait.'

'Oh?' He didn't mind waiting, but if this was just another excuse to fend Arthur off, or prove to Merlin that Arthur's feelings were fleeting then he didn't agree with it. So he felt justified when asking if there was a time or date limit in mind for Merlin.

'Er, no I- actually yes,' Merlin decided, the idea practically blooming on his face, 'tell you what, if you decipher that journal, read it, and tell me you still want this, then I won't argue anymore.'

'You can't be serious?' Merlin nodded, Arthur huffing as he realised just how serious and dedicated Merlin was to this idea now. 'Of course. Only you Merlin would give me homework before we could get to some dick play.'

'Well if you're not up for it,' Merlin teased.

Arthur hit him gently on the arm for that. 'One, poor choice of words, and two, I'll have your little journal deciphered in under a month. And I'm telling you now, I'll still want you. So whatever you're working through to keep me at arms length you can solve in that time. Okay?'

'Okay,' Merlin agreed, the two of them even shaking on it like the sad people they were.

After one last question on whether this meant any kissing at all was off the table in that time, they relocated to Merlin's room. They holed themselves up next to Merlin's window, him telling Arthur he chose this room just because of it. It was long, like the ones further in the house, stretching from floor to ceiling, and was wide and dark enough for them to see the stars as they twinkled above them.

He fell asleep there, not that he would know it. One moment he was staring at the stars from Merlin's window, _and the next he was looking at them from a different angle altogether._

_Merlin was asleep beside him, Arthur fighting to urge to kick him awake just for the company as he named the stars in his head. He was in the old castle, the room feeling right around him as all those things he knew were missing were back to their usual place. He'd invited Merlin up to help him come up with the best way to propose. He couldn't blame Merlin, not really, for falling asleep. Any help he'd suggested Arthur had told him was too girly for him to use._

_Well, not too girly, not that he would tell Merlin that. It was more like they weren't him. He'd never given Gwen flowers, or jewellery, and if he were to be king those things would come to her automatically. She'd inherit all of Arthur's mother's, and even Morgana's gold and jewels as soon as she became his queen. Besides, to give a gift of something that extravagance would surely shadow Arthur's proposal. He wanted Gwen to say yes to him, not a promise of power and gold._

_Merlin's other suggestions of poetry and songs were out the window when Arthur pointed out that not only did he hate poetry, but if he started reciting it now she'd be disappointed when she found out it was a once in a lifetime thing. He didn't mention that he couldn't string together a paragraph of Gwen's virtues to save his life. Not one that rhymed anyway. To do so would just embarrass both of them, and if he had Merlin do it Gwen would surely see through it and call him out on it._

_He wanted it to be personal, Arthur alone and not king Arthur, which turned out to be a lot harder to think about than he thought it would be. So he wasn't surprised when he turned his back and Merlin nodded off._

_He looked like a fool, Arthur thought, his long limbs spread out as they tried to find comfort along the stones. The two of them had been sitting on Arthur's windowsill, Merlin slouching down with every exhale until his boot kicked Arthur's._

_Merlin would probably take any propositions of marriage that came his way. He seemed to find the romance wherever they were. Usually it made Arthur roll his eyes, but now, well now Arthur wished he too could see endless possibilities where there were none. Arthur could probably just hand him a ring and Merlin would say yes, reading in to the simple gesture way more than it really was._

_Sometimes he half wished Merlin really was a girl- he stopped that thought before it finished. Not only because his brain argued that he wouldn't have Merlin any other way._

_The candle burned low, Arthur starting to feel tired himself. Maybe he would have to just hand a ring over to Gwen._

Arthur woke burrowed in to Merlin's side again. Merlin really did look like an idiot splayed out like that. He found himself disentangling himself when sleep became a far way off, lingering feelings carrying through to the waking world. There was too much in his head.

So he went for a walk, inevitably ending up in Merlin's library again. He considered trying to find that pirate journal again. Despite the dirty sex scenes he was curious to what else Merlin and his friend would get up to. he was fingering the spines when he remembered the journal Merlin had gave him earlier.

But he couldn't read it. Yet he found himself stroking the cover before his mind caught up to his legs. The writing was gibberish, his mind protested even as the cover fell open and Arthur read the words on the front page. Actually read it.

It was like an impression in his mind, like the feelings and pictures that would sometimes come to him. He saw the words and knew he couldn't read them, but it was like his mind was remembering what they said, whispering it to him as he looked over the lines.

He remembered what Merlin had said, 'you might be able to read it,' echoing around his head as he looked to the front again to see which of the historical Merlin's he was reading about this time. Only, Merlin's name wasn't there. It was in the book, mentioned more than once, and often accompanied by a complaint. But at the beginning, where most people wrote their names wasn't Merlin's. Instead, Arthur's mind made out the familiar words, his blood running cold as countless questions bubbled to his lips.

_Arthur Pendragon._

The same Arthur from his dreams. The same Arthur from the media, from the history and English books. The same Arthur that had a Merlin. Just like him.


	12. Chapter 12

_'What's this?' Arthur asked, holding up the book Merlin had just given him like that alone would give him the answers. Merlin himself was looking far too smug, Arthur seeing his mind debating whether to go through the obvious jibe of Arthur not knowing what a book was because he was a thick knight, or whether to go the sarcastic route and say something else that wasn't a book. Sometimes Arthur wondered how clean his chambers would be if Merlin applied the same concentration to his work as he did his comebacks._

_Finally, 'It's a journal. I bought it for you.' The book route then, but not at all how Arthur had pictured it coming out of his mouth. Merlin actually sounded kind for once._

_'I can see that. But why?'_

_Merlin scuffed his boot, Arthur preparing himself to hold his tongue at the obvious girly words that were coming. 'I thought you might like to put your thoughts into them. Gaius says it helps when you have a troubled mind. Being King... I know things aren't easy.'_

_Arthur fingered the leather. It was good make, excellent make actually. The front actually looked like dragon scales. Probably wyvern since dragons were extinct. It was truly a thoughtful gift. One he really didn't deserve, not after the way he'd been treating Merlin lately. 'Yes. but that doesn't mean I need to write my secrets in a diary. Only women do that.' He tried to push the book back over to him._

_Merlin didn't take it, even stepping back like he was afraid Arthur was going to accost him with it. 'Women and Kings. Gaius also said it might be good for your children, and those after them. Something to remember you by. I know sometimes you wish you had advice from your father, maybe this way when your children wonder what you would do in a situation and you're not there they can just look it up.' Which made Arthur feel even worse for that shouting match he'd had at Merlin the other night. 'It would be nice for people to have more than just a name to remember you by Arthur.'_

_He bit his tongue on whatever wanted to come out of his mouth. It would be scathing, his nerves were all over the place these days, and instead took the journal back, placing it amongst his papers. Merlin gave him a blinding grin in response. 'You better take good care of it,' He warned, 'It cost me a good few gold coins.'_

_Another reason for Arthur to feel bad. Still, at least this he could channel into something else, rolling his eyes he cast Merlin his most understanding look. 'Well, at least you won't have the money to go to the tavern this week. You spend far too much money there as it is.'_

_Merlin stuck his tongue out like a child as he ran off, gone before Arthur could really throw something at him._

_For a few weeks after that, the journal remained untouched on Arthur's desk, another pile of papers that Arthur couldn't be bothered to look at. It was only when the sting of Gwen's betrayal was so fresh in his heart that he finally remembered it. That night, amidst wine and solitude Arthur poured his heart out. It felt good, better than good to just let it out, to curse and cry at the page before him and have it just take it. It didn't judge, didn't offer comfort or advice, it just lay there silent and let Arthur do what he needed to. By the time he was finished, and Merlin had come to check on him the last time before retiring, he had never felt so content._

_That night, he didn't even shout at Merlin. Not how he wanted to earlier just to vent something out. Instead he let Merlin help him up and into bed, mumbling a good night to a surprised Merlin before he went to sleep._

_After that he found the journal a great outlet for things he didn't want to burden on others. He knew, sometimes, he was more than unfair on Merlin when he didn't deserve it. With the journal there he found he didn't have that urge too often anymore. They still quarrelled like they used to, but the times where Arthur would just shout for the sake of shouting almost never happened anymore. Not thanks to the journal._

_It soon developed from times when he was angry, to remembering what Merlin had said about future generations looking back on his writing for advice. The days after that Arthur tried to think of lessons his father had given him as a child, advice he had wished his father had told him about ruling before his passing and things he himself had found out in his short life._

_Before long he had filled the pages. He tried cramming his handwriting onto that last page as much as he could. Small letters, loopy girly writing, even filling it out in columns but it didn't work. Almost before the day had ended Arthur found himself looking at a full journal, and not having a clue where Merlin even bought such a thing came to the realisation he would have to ask his idiot of a manservant in person._

_He could have went and looked for a place that sold journals himself. But, one, only the upper class, namely those in Camelot's walls could actually read and write which meant that the odds of actually finding a stall that sold journals was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. Arthur had no doubt that Merlin didn't just go down to the market and buy this thing. He must have asked Gaius to fetch him a spare when he ordered in from some supplier for his medical journals. Which brought him to number two, that Merlin was Arthur's servant and he shouldn't feel embarrassed about asking him to get him another journal._

_Still, it took another two days and some rather testy conversations with Merlin before he was asking Merlin to stay late in his chambers one night. He got the journal out before Merlin could start panicking, as he was wont to do the big girl._

_'I'm in need of another.' He tossed the first one between them like a peace offering. 'I don't care if it's of good make or not, and I'll give Gaius the extra gold, but I need another.'_

_Merlin looked like he was three seconds away from combusting from happiness. 'It was a good gift then?'_

_'You know it was Merlin.'_

_Merlin laughed, his whole head cast back, clearly enjoying this. 'I thought you said journals were for girls.'_

_Arthur didn't have the patience for this. 'Merlin, have you noticed of late how less, let's say stressed, I am to you.' He waited for the nod. 'Yes, well that's because of the journal. You don't get me one and we go back to me shouting at you day in day out like before only worse.'_

_The threat worked with Merlin scampering off, promises of a new one within the week echoing down the corridor._

_The next wasn't as lavish as the first, but nevertheless it did its job. Merlin seemed to take advantage of Arthur's good mood sometimes, turning up late or sneaking extra helpings of his meals. Arthur let him have it, needing the little checks every now and then, for that was what they were. He had started noticing around the fourth month of his kingship that he had started filling out his breeches more, and not in the good way. He was also tired more easily, whether because he had more on his mind or the fact a king stayed up long after everyone else went to sleep._

_By the time he came to his fifth year as king Arthur had ten journals under his belt, Merlin telling him to slow down when he said they would be out of sheep if Arthur demanded a new one every month. Still, he managed to get a lot down, picking his entries more carefully after he married Gwen as he realised that he really would be passing these down to his children. He grew eager in the first year they were married to jot down more advice and less rants, more than anything however, he shared how eager he was to be a father and say these things in person._

_He'd never thought about fatherhood before. Not really anyway. It was more a passing thing he had to accept when he was a prince. Another responsibility to his kingdom. He was to get married, have children and rule. But his marriage was to a woman he was proud to call his wife, he loved Gwen with all his heart. He never dreamed he would ever be this happy when he was king, and to think that there could be a little boy with Gwen's wit and brown eyes, or a girl that would surely be the gem of Camelot, it made him giddy._

_But the first year passed with no children. The second following the same route. By the third he was beginning to think children were something that would just happen, that if he maybe didn't dwell, it would happen naturally._

_Of course Morgana's reappearance managed to temper him off the thought of children. He confessed in one entry that he feared Gwen would tell him he was expecting any day now. That it would just be his luck to experience so many years of blissful peace and only when there was danger and the potential for his kingdom to be destroyed that the gods would choose now to give him children._

_He asked one night what it was he'd done wrong. He seemed to be asking that a lot lately._

_'I wish Merlin were here,' Arthur said, Gwen's arms winding around his shoulders. He was truly blessed to have her in his life, never so more than now. 'Do you think that's selfish of me?'_

_A tender kiss was pressed to his forehead. 'You're about to go into battle Arthur, I don't think anything is selfish at this point.'_

_'Still, I have you at my side, yet it is Merlin I want to see.'_

_Gwen didn't pull away, instead she hugged him closer, like she knew what Arthur was trying to say even as the words escaped him.' Merlin has been with you through a lot Arthur. I think, over the years, you've come to think of him as a ribbon.' A ribbon a woman would give to a knight to wish them good luck. Yes, that was exactly what Merlin had become to him. Someone he would turn to before something drastic would happen. Always Merlin would look at him and tell him not to worry, he would turn those strangely wise eyes on him and give him some speech of hope that would make Arthur, in his soul, know that this wasn't the end. Not yet. 'I think I have too. I don't have a good feeling about this.'_

_He fought back the panic, his knight training taking over. He was a soldier, a king, and kings did not panic. But if Gwen didn't even believe in his cause... 'It's my fault. All my fault. Morgana. Mordred. He just wanted someone to listen, and-'_

_Gwen's arms tightened more. 'You don't have to be strong with me.'_

_For his last entry, Arthur put all his belief into the dots of ink on the page. He wished, with everything he had that Merlin would show up, just be there in the morning and tell him that all was not lost._

'I'm going mad, aren't I?' Arthur asked, his reflection almost unrecognisable yet still him staring back. He was wearing chainmail, like in his dreams. There was a stain at the chest, the chainmail linked up, but the wound beneath throbbing on his own chest like a reminder of what it used to be. 'Completely mad.'

'Or just remembering,' his reflection said, Arthur doubling back. The mouth in his reflection moved, but the voice seemed to sound in his mind. His voice.

'Oh God.' Arthur looked at his reflection again, moving his arms and seeing the man in the mirror not copying any of it. If anything he just gave Arthur an unimpressed stare. 'Is this some kind of Gollum moment. Am I about to go psycho like the green goblin?'

'It's sad I know what that is,' His reflection remarked. 'But no. You're just having a crisis and your mind's trying to cope with it.'

'A crisis?' He remembered. He couldn't sleep, so he went looking in Merlin's library for something to read. The journal, Merlin had given him a journal, and he could, oh god he could read it. After that it was a blur. But somehow he was in front of a mirror. Or was he? Was this in his mind too? His head was spinning, memories crashing around him. 'What's happening?'

His reflection looked genuinely sorry, Arthur gave it that much credit. 'You're remembering, and the memories are trying to take over. There's a reason you've been forgetting. Your mind can't cope with two lives, especially one that ended like mine did. The trauma could kill you.'

'So what? You're just going to take over and I'll be pushed to the side? That's not fair. This is my life! You had your turn.' He was panicking, he knew that, and with that panic came his other voice telling him that kings didn't panic, they stayed strong for their people. But Arthur wasn't a king. He went to public school for Gods sake.

'It's not like that,' His reflection soothed. It seemed astounded by Arthur, looking him over like he was a puzzle. 'You're so free with yourself. It's been weird seeing things through your eyes, your feelings. You have nothing holding you back.' He snapped out of it with a short shake of his head, 'Look, we don't have much time here. Already, I can feel myself starting to fade again. I'm not trying to take over, but if we're going to fight what's coming you're going to need to come up with a compromise. Maybe Merlin can do something. Some magic or...' he stopped again, like he was shocked with his own words. 'Just talk to Merlin. Tell him he needs to do something.'

'Or what?'

His reflection couldn't even look him in the eyes. 'Or I will take over. It's not fair, but life isn't fair. So you're going to have to grow up and do the right thing.'

He felt a brief push at those words, like his reflection was showing him the threat was real, and he had never been more terrified than he was in that moment. He could see his body, still in the library of Merlin's house, but he wasn't telling it to put the journal down, the other him was. his posture was straightened, his head automatically raising to an acceptable level before drooping again and letting Arthur take back control. The outside world faded, the mirror replacing it once more with the other him looking more and more dejected the longer he stared out at Arthur.

'Why is this happening?' Arthur had to ask.

'Ask Merlin,' and oh, Arthur was. As soon as he got out of his own head he was raining hellfire down on Merlin for this. His reflection paused, memories more recent, of Arthur's own, passing through his head this time before his reflection pulled a face. 'Yeah, about Merlin... really? Him?'

Arthur didn't deem his reflection with a response, instead he focused on getting out of his own head. He didn't want to be here. He had to get to Merlin, he concentrated on that, and soon the mirror in front of him left in favour of Merlin's library again.

As soon as he could move his arms and legs, he stumbled his way over to the door, keeping the memory of his little reaction fresh in his mind so he wouldn't forget. He'd meant to travel the stairs to Merlin's room, but as soon as he saw the open door to the bathroom he decided his roiling stomach needed more attention and threw up for a couple of minutes.

His head was still pounding as he found his footing again, getting those last few steps in and barrelling over to Merlin's prone form. He wanted to shout, to scream what the hell was going on, but in the end he could do no more than gently shake Merlin awake, his arms too unreliable to do anything too forceful right now.

Merlin woke with a start, sleepily rubbing his eyes and giving Arthur a smile as he usually did when he saw him. Like he couldn't believe it was him, whispered traitorously in his mind.

The smile fell as Merlin looked him over closer. Jumping up, he had his hand on Arthur's forehead and looking into his pupils before Arthur could even try and form the beginning of his questions.

'How are you feeling? Is your stomach hurting? You look pale.'

He wondered if that was it, if he really was ill. It was definitely more believable than the alternative. But Merlin had never hinted at him that he thought Arthur was crazy. He believed him at every step, even taking him to that stupid castle, _Camelot_ , to try and help him. Was it possible he remembered too? Was that why he gave Arthur the journal, so that they could be in this together.

He threw off the hands looking him over, looking at the concern in Merlin's eyes and the care he showed him. It didn't seem false. 'Is this some kind of shutter island thing where you're trying to get me to remember I'm not well?'

Merlin frowned, the reference going over his head. 'Arthur? What's going on?'

'I... I remembered,' that was the best way he could put it.

It had its intended effect, Merlin looking as pale as he felt, his eyes going wide as he grabbed Arthur's shoulders. 'Arthur?'

'Oh my god,' that was all the confirmation he needed. He wasn't going crazy. 'I don't anymore,' he had to say, Merlin's hands losing their grip, instantly taking a step back into the shadows. 'It was like, it is like a split in my head. He said you have to do something. Some kind of- magic,' the word made him laugh, even if he didn't feel like it was very funny. Not with everything else that was going on. 'He said if you don't, he's going to take over. That he needs to for something.'

Arthur felt like running when he saw the look on Merlin's face. For a second, it looked like Merlin was actually considering helping the other Arthur take over, he was hungry for it. But it left with wide eyes and shaking taking its place. 'Right,' he said, motioning to the bed. 'You'd better take a seat. I need to- to go look for my book.'

'This isn't a joke, is it?' he asked, just before Merlin ran out the door.

He paused, hovering on the inside before leaving without a sound. It wasn't a joke. It was serious, and at the back of his mind the other Arthur was telling him to stop panicking, that it wasn't doing anything to help.

 _Grow up and help_ , it whispered.

'Shut up.'


End file.
